Lich Hunting
by Amousca
Summary: [PostTOB] One of the undead magic users has attracted the Order's attention and so finds itself with a Order's party to rout out of its tower... and many more diverse developments to come.
1. Lich Hunting

_Hello. As this is the beginning of "lecture week" here in University Universe, I have a little free time and came up with this. I posted this story on a board somewhere some time ago. I got a little success with it, and decided to try it here. For those who are interested to know what others think of what I write before you begin to read this story, I will say that I was told it has its flaws (mainly, too much gamespeak and a "unfinished business" feeling after the end of it) but its good points (nice flashbacks, nice Waatsuskun (you'll see in next chapters))._

_I will attempt to correct some of the flaws here. But now I just revised chapter I, and I think I kept almost all of the gamespeak there; it's a decision I made. It's an introduction, and it's a tactical campaign of the Order, so I decided to keep my account of the battle very calculating, cold and strategic. But not all of the story is like this. I did attempt warrior-POV battle, humorous training sessions, and non-battle chapters._

_So… I think this is quite enough of an introduction._

_**Once upon a time a happy merry Order party was going lich hunting…**_

Chapter I. Lich hunting

"Here is the battle plan," sir Anomen Delryn said as he unrolled a large map, drawn on thin parchment on the table in front of his officers and the freelancer spellcaster.

Six heads bent over the table. To Anomen's right was Nogam Stomus, a undead hunter paladin, his lieutenant for this mission. The next one was Guervin Karrat, one of the few old friends of Anomen; they had been together on many goblin-killing campains in their squire years. Opposite of Anomen was Proteor Marmorat, a cavalier, one of the truly flamboyant members of the Order; he was young, full of life and eager, blond haired, blue-eyed, square-jawed, brave, romantic and extremely conspicuous in everything he did. Next to him stood the freelancer spellcaster, lady Cordis, quick black eyes surveying the map with haste, skill and experience. She was an elf, but a strange one, to everyone's eyes; she had black, curly hair, black eyes, a pale skin and her ears were pierced in many places to support tiny pearls of silvery black stone. Her hair was drawn back in fine rows held by hairpins, but behind her ears it was a free jungle of luxurious, smooth black curls. And she was dressed in red, the same red as her lips. She was quite conspicuous too. The last one around the table was Matteo Delryn, fighter-cleric, son of Anomen Delryn. Father and son were not often assigned on common missions, because of the obvious conflict of interests, but so far the behavior of both had been nothing short of exemplary, given the situation.

The map they were examining was depicting a tower, obviously. There were three separate levels, the two lower ones showing sub-levels separated by flights of stairs. There were two doors to the first floor and none to those above. Lady Cordis calculated that it would be quite a feat worthy of the songs of bards if they managed to get half of their twenty-five men in the tower before the lich sealed it with magic. There were two stairways to each of the next floors, on opposite sides of the room. The third level of the tower was obviously a lab of some sort, with all those stone-reinforced walls and niches in the wall to put warding devices and flat spaces where to inscribes wards and words of power. The second level appeared to be more like a living area; Cordis' stomach churned at the thought of what a lich would be doing in its free times. There was something it would lie upon to restore itself – it was not a closed coffin as vampires, but it did approach the idea. There was also a table, a small drawer and a magically-cooling device, probably to keep food and souls cold. She repressed a shudder. The first level of the tower was probably crowded with traps and summoned creatures and the lich's pets and minions. It had a large open area in its center, with the three sub-levels and the flight of stairs giving it a great spatial complexity. Mass spells would be hard to manage in such a complicated environment, and there was a possibility of non-detection zones for invisible or sanctuaried creatures.

"We are going to split in two. Nogam, Guervin and Matteo's divisions will come in through that door." Anomen pointed the north entrance on the map. Just in front of it was the first sub-level. "My division, Proteor's and lady Cordis will come through this door, in front of and above the other three divisions." He pointed again. "Be sure to have a priest detect traps at all times; I leave you to determine in which division he will be, but I suggest he stays close to the front. There will also be an inquisitor or a priest with True seeing at all times. This is of prime importance. Once all the men are in, we will clean each sub-level before moving at the same time to the third sublevel, then together to the second level, then to the third. We expect the lich to be in its laboratory on the third level of the tower, so it is paramount that we reach the third floor with enough men in fighting order to hold off our bad position in the stairs. Are there any questions?"

"Any defensive spells that we should be casting before we go in there as a preventive measure?", Matteo asked.

"Remove fear and Protection from evil are always recommended. There is a chance that there will be Umber hulks amongst its pets, so I believe you have already been ordered to memorize a few Chaotic commands?" Matteo nodded. "There are also the Protections from fire, because the liches have a tendency to Time stop then Gate then Meteor swarm. But the Protections from fire must be cast only once we have cleaned the second floor."

"Sir, if I may?", Cordis asked, her sweet voice deep with respect.

"Yes, milady?", Anomen said as he turned to her. "We are grateful for your presence here and would appreciate your insight. I heard that you have fought many of these undead before?"

"Oh, not that many." Six, precisely, eight if she counted demi-liches. Those were a lot harder to come by. "What I want to say is that it won't probably cast a Meteor swarm because the space is too small. Unless it can shield itself from fire, it will not risk burning itself to ultimate death because it cannot get out of the area effect of its own spell. And I believe that, with hand-to-hand fighters swarming him and me breaching its magic defenses, it will be busy enough with his battle protections not to have time to protect itself from fire."

"Thank you for this insight, lady Cordis," Anomen nodded towards her, then looked upon the map once more. Then he rolled it neatly and stacked it into a parchment case, before giving the marching orders.

The twenty-five men separated neatly into five groups. There were five men into each officer's direct command, and Cordis was not to give or receive orders from anyone, casting the spells to the best of her judgement. They moved closer to the tower, greatly conspicuous in their shining armors on such a barren land. The lich's tower rose hiddeously above the ground, a construct of black, brown and grey stone with red mortar, that looked like a construct built with the most evil magics. It reeked of undeath tens of meters away. Life itself seemed to shrink from it; there was no grass or trees anywhere near it, and no birds could be heard, no matter how Cordis strained her elven ears. The ugly tower cut sharply against the soft blue of the sky and the sun above it. It was so horrid that it didn't seem out of place; the surroundings were so twisted from nature that it was an assault on her elven senses, and somehow it was the sun that seemed out of place. This tower should have been built in the Underdark, not under Amaunator's blessed sun.

They reached the tower in silence. There were no signs of alarm yet. The priests started to cast defensive spells, then their True seeing and their trap-detecting spells, and then reached the doors. Anomen and Nogam were to be the first ones to step foot into the tower. Cordis managed to find herself a little place close enough to the head to be sure to be able to cast her spells quickly enough when they would step in and not stay stuck behind everyone.

On Anomen's order, both doors were pushed open brutally with booted feet. The warrior-priest rushed inside with a war cry and his men and the spellcaster followed him quickly. Cordis could hear the scratching of giant spiders ahead of her in the umpenetrable darkness.

"Don't advance the front line!", Cordis yelled and stopped dead into the doorway, hands already up to cast a spell. Anomen confirmed her order and barely had the time to keep Proteor from making another step when the Fireball exploded in front of them, the last waves of magical fire stopping right before them. Then she got out of the doorway to let the rest of the men pour in the tower.

There were three spiders, barely able to walk because of their chitinous cuticule partially melted down by Cordis's fireball. She listened to the sounds on the above and below floors. She heard some grunting and feet-shuffling under her; probably zombies, but there was also the hissing of shadows. She hoped there were no wraiths, because those Matteo could not kill with the power of Helm. Not yet. She suddenly heard the distinct, faint ringing in her ears that always came when a nearby priest was calling upon the power of his god to turn the undead. Anomen was standing in the middle of room, shadows piling over each other in their hurry to come down from the level above them. A wave of power extended outwards from Anomen, and the closest shadows and wraiths ceased to exist. The other fighters were still battling the spiders. Deciding that nothing more urgent necessitated her assistance, Cordis shot a few magic missiles to the spiders, which were easily dispatched.

The other half of the men soon made their way up to their sub-level. There were no casualties, but many of the men had been drained of their strength or life by the shadows, or blinded, and would need restoration spells or time to rest to recuperate. Everyone waited until men regained their strength or sight. Those that had been drained of life were put on the last lines to serve as rear-guard and keep low the risk that they would get killed because they were stuck in the middle of a fight.

They were ready to resume their course in about fifteen minutes. The shadows of the third level eliminated earlier by Anomen's call upon Helm, there were just a few orcs to dispatch. They did not survive well the Fireball.

"Keep a few spells for the lich itself, milady," one of the Inquisitors said, amiably. She cringed inwardly away from him, but forced a confident smile on her lips.

"Do not worry, milord. The lich is immune to weak spells such as Fireball. I am keeping my best spells for it."

The inquisitor nodded and they resumed their deployment on the now clear second level. There was a pause before everyone was in the right place in the ranks.

"It is time we renew our defensive spells," Anomen ordered. "Also make sure that everyone is under Chant and Bless, and Aid those with the drain by the wraiths."

Just at the end of the defensive spells, Cordis cast a Haste spell, which missed just a few of the men. Then she Stoneskinned and Spell shielded and Spell trapped, and everyone looked at her casting her own defensive spells. She finished with a True sight and requested to come in just after Anomen, because there would surely be something to dispel right from the beginning.

"As much elemental damage as possible," Anomen said, "if he begins a spell. We can do nothing while in Time stop."

The group of knights and squires from the Order of the Most Radiant Heart crisply replied a "yes, sir" and then Anomen and Nogam each bashed in a door. Cordis rushed behind Anomen and hastily leaned against the wall as the rest of the fighters were passing her by, running to the undead creature, yelling battle cries and clanking in their shining armor.

Hopefully, the lich was alone. It hissed and turned towards them, moving from side to side with his race's characteristic looping of every part of the body, as if undeath somehow decayed the bone and the limbs were not solid anymore. This way of walking always chilled Cordis deep down to the bone.

"You should not have come to this place," the lich said with its hissing and cold voice. "A few of your souls will serve me well enough; I smell the stink of righteousness upon you."

And then its Spell trigger went off, Stoneskinning it, Improved mantling it and Spell trapping it. Cordis swore as her True sight was wasted; the lich kept its illusions for later, but if it was too late, her spell would be over and she would have to cast another. Or ask the inquisitors, that would do fine too. She began to cast a Spellstrike. She was done quickly and the lich hissed once more. But it did not interrupt its spellcasting, however, and suddenly a Symbol of Fear exploded right in the middle of the Order's men. There was an uneasy shift for a second as they fought over the magical fear, and then they rushed to the attack once more.

The hasted men were quickly upon the lich; there was not enough place for twenty-five men to fight hand-to hand with the lich; Anomen's and Nogam's divisions were battling in close combat with the lich, but the others stood, holding the defense and using bows, crossbows and slings. The officers yelled the orders of fire at will and joined the frey. The hand-to-hand fighters efficiently circled the lich, their strikes bouncing helplessly against the many Stoneskins of the lich.

"Keep hitting it!", Cordis heard Anomen bellow over the sounds of battle. "The Breach is almost done!"

Cordis's Breach incantation ended just after the fear spell. This time weapons cut through the lich's undead flesh and another series of spells came up, triggered by contingency. Cordis began another Spellstrike. The lich protected itself from evil in the meanwhile.

"It's going to summon a Pit fiend!", Cordis yelled just as the Spellstrike left her hands. The lich's magical protections exploded in a white ball of power around the undead, but it still had its Stoneskin and Protection from magical weapons.

"Proteor! Hold off the demon!", Anomen yelled, before he started a Protection from evil.

The lich's spell was over before Matteo, Anomen and another priest were done with their Protection from evil on a 10 feet radius.

"With me! At the demon!", Proteor shouted and his division of cavaliers rallied around him with a great cry of fury and went to battle the demon, to hold it off until the others were done with the lich. The Protections from evil came into effect. Cordis's second Breach hit the lich.

Blades and maces and hammers started to ram into the undead. Its hissing was resonating through the closed space of the tower. There was the crashing sound of metal as the cavaliers started to fight the demon hand-to-hand. There were grunts of injured men. The lich started a Sunfire. Cordis continued to gather her thoughts.

The sunfire exploded in a blinding and burning flash of white light and pain. Some of the men fell around the lich, but Anomen and the other priests rushed to heal them before they left for what lay beyond. The ranks closed swiftly around the lich as paladins and knights struggled to their feet, trying to interrupt the next lich's spell. Its protections were spent. Cordis saw it was trying a Wail of the Banshee, but it was too long; the injuries would stop it before it happened.

Cordis's mastery of magic returned suddenly to her. With a furious power word, she flew her Spelltrigger at the demon; there were three Lower resistances in it. She again had to stop to breath and think, unable to cast a spell for a while. She looked helplessly as the demon hissed and snapped his jaws, wreaking havoc among the squires of Proteor's division; the full knights were obviously having less trouble to hold their ground without being torn to pieces. Screams could be heard, for the first time in all the battle; there were battle cries and a few grunts before, but there were full screams now and soon Matteo's division joined Proteor's to hold back the demon. Anomen and the other officers were quickly overcoming the lich's last Stoneskins.

Cordis began another spell as soon as she was able. It was long, and she kept an eye on the battle as she summoned the magic in her hands and mind. The green ball of magical energy left her hands and went to explode right between the lich and the demon. A skull of brown dust materialized almost as high as the roof of the room and a cloud of dry brown dust filled the entire room. The lich fell unlifeless and undeathless. The demon screeched and threw his claws in front of him in a desperate move, a novice impaled on its claws, shaken helplessly like a puppet. The squaly skin of the demon was peeling off its flesh, dried to a point where it cracked open and peeled off. A final ram of a Holy Avenger through the demon's skull killed it.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_Don't worry, there won't be so much "lich hunting" repetition in the next chapter titles ;-p_


	2. The Scroll

_Thank you Finduilas for my only review :-) Hm, this really isn't much about Matteo, but I am writing something about him. If only I can find a fit ending, maybe I'll post it later. About the "technobabble": I'll admit it might be an obsession derived from my biologist formation, but I can't help but think that things _must_ have a precise name. And so, I cannot imagine the mages of Faerun working and communicating and creating new spells and all without referring to spells with particular names. And, well, if it's not the ones _we_ are using, then… I have no better name for them then the ones that's written in the player handbook, so I use those. I hope it's not proving to be too distracting. This was the worst gamespeak of the story however, I think. And, as for style… well, my other Amousca stories were among the first things I wrote in English. So, even if _I_ don't read much of a difference between that and later stories, it's possible my style has matured since. And I also was a lot more "driven" and "inspired" when I wrote this than the two previous ones. The first ones were "well, good idea, not run-through-the-game… let's write it". This one was "oh YEAH! I HAVE to write that!" So this might also show ;-) Lich hunting isn't my best fanfiction ever written (that would be _Archangels learn_ so far), but I'm… satisfied with it. :-)_

_So, everyone feel free to review and constructively criticize!_

Chapter II. The scroll

There was a second of stunned silence, everything bathed in the dry, brown powder summoned by the spell. Pants and cries could be heard in the sudden silence. Many were lying on the floor around where the demon had been, none near the lich.

"Healing!", Anomen ordered.

The priests rushed to the battleground against the demon. Proteor had trouble standing, leaning hard against his Holy Avenger. His breastplate was torn asunder on his chest. The four claws of the demon had torn through it as it were a mere sheet of paper and not magically hardened steel. Blood and lashes of flesh were dripping from his wound. Three novice knights had been thrown so hard against the wall that they were unconscious. Many others had had limbs almost ripped off their body, trying to block the demon's claws, but forgetting to hold their weapons close enough to their body. More had been scratched or bitten at the shoulders, through their armor, the pit fiend biting through metal as easily as through flesh and bone.

Cordis surveyed the destruction. The impaled novice received a Heal spell from Anomen as he was slowly taken from his position still embedded on the claws of the demon, stiffling his screams as best he could. The spell healed him. He put a hand on his intact stomach in amazement, and then he fell over, unconscious. Cordis sighed to see that he would live.

She did not enjoy the sight of demons ripping men apart; especially not when those men were just squires not even old enough to grow a beard. Maybe it was because she was not human, but she felt like people of that age should be doing something else than risking their lives in lich-hunting business for the sake of the world becoming a better place. She agreed that there were innocents to save, and she had done her share and more; it had gifted her with her mastery her magic. And she had been young at the time. But it was not the same with the legions of young people that the Order had in its ranks. They were of an age to go on goblin-killing campains. They were of an age to look at their elders in longing, hoping they would achieve such a greatness themselves later. They were of an age to fight the ideological fights of youth, to wish to change the world; but they were too young yet to take arms into the fight.

That young man had not deserved to die at the hands of a demon. Cordis wondered for a while why she was more concerned about this young man's fate then by Proteor's, who did not look so well either. A life was a life – and she was not the one to draw a line between human and elf. Both were here by choice. Except that Proteor had a better idea of what awaited him and had already many years of enjoying life behind him. She deserved death more surely then any of the squires here; she was older, she had lived a satisfying life, she had achieved heights in the magic that she had never thought she would, when she was their age. Her dreams were spent; she still lived and tasted them, but she had realized them, when they had not even conceived them all.

Their life should be ahead of them. They deserved that it would be so. Much more then old cowards that cut their own hand to avoid military service when there was an orc invasion coming their way. And yet they were the ones to put their lives on the line, to risk their youth and all this life and these experiences ahead of them. They were thrilled in battle and rejoiced even now in great cries of victory to see that Echigam, the young knight, would survive, and that they had prevailed, even as so many of them had been so very close to death. And yet they were the ones to rejoice.

"A great deed in the name of light!", Guervin exclaimed.

"For Torm's glory!", Nogam shouted, lifting his sword over his head.

"Torm's glory!", all the young squires shouted in answer.

"For Helm's pride!", Anomen bellowed.

"Helm's pride!" The cry echoed through the tower, even stronger.

They revelled in the victory purchased at a high cost with blood; they offered it to their gods; they thanked fate that they had survived. In that order.

Cordis smiled. She loved humans. She admired them.

ooooo

There were six soul gems in the lich's lab.

"Coreen could have told what it was planning," Matteo said, lifting a piece of parchment here and there; each one of them was covered in a small, strange writing.

"Maybe I can help. I am not a magical engineer, but I know quite a few ones," Cordis said as she strode forward and took a look at the parchments.

Curious, she lifted one in her hands. It was hot against her skin; it would react badly to a good person or a non-undeath. It was written in a magical syntax she was not very good with, but she could still decipher it.

"It's rakshasa's based," she diagnosed. "It looks like… necromancy – but rakshasa don't do much else besides necromancy…" She pursed her lips as she recognized the procedure to imprison a soul within a gem. This one was unusal, though, and her forehead creased with its particular fold as she tried to understand what the modification was designed to accomplish.

"Don't break the gems!", she yelled all of a sudden, dropping the parchment, as it suddenly burned her hand. Her hand was now blistered, the parchment's magic resonating with what she knew.

Anomen turned to her, puzzled; he had been about to break one with his powerful war hammer.

"You have to dispel them," Cordis said. Everyone could see her shaking. "Otherwise the soul will not be set free, it will cease to exist."

Proteor walked towards her. He put a hand on her shoulder in a very cavalier manner, putting his arm around her as to comfort her.

"This is what the parchment talked about?", he said low, unnecessarily bending his head close to her ear to speak. "About those foul gems?"

"The fact that they are binding a soul is foul; the soul is not," she answered, drawing a little away from the paladin.

"It must hurt your naivety to learn that most of those trapped souls were bargained and offered willingly by their owner," Proteor added with a sweet, soft, sad voice.

"No need to patronize me, I'm older than you," Cordis observed coldly. "Besides, I read magic, remember? And those souls were not given willingly, I assure you."

There were a few, discreet laughs to see Proteor's defeat. The cavalier, after a second of disbelief at being so summarily dismissed, shrugged and made a sly smile. His squire nudged him on the shoulder with a knowing look and Proteor ogled the elf at everybody's notice but hers as she was walking towards Anomen, standing next to the table where the soul gems were.

Anoment saw Proteor's look above Cordis' head – she was small enough for him to look over her – and his face instantly showed how scandalized he was, but he kept silent. The elf looked at him, puzzled, before she apparently realized what was happening and rolled her eyes. Then she turned her attention to the soul gems.

"There is supposed to be an efreeti and a djinni in two of these soul gems. Be careful and ready when you dispel one," she said to the inquisitor that was about to cast a Dispel magic.

"Everyone stand back," Anomen ordered. "I will protect us against fire, and then you will dispel the gem."

"I'll dispel magic and breach if necessary," Cordis offered, stepping back with the others as Anomen protected the inquisitor and himself from fire.

The first soul gem they dispelled contained the soul of a little girl. They saw it thank them and go beyond into death, free from its prison; it had been imprisonned too long, the body was dead and there was no place for the soul to return to. The second one was the djinni. It was no match for Anomen and the inquisitor. There were three men after that, only one of them still alive and close enough to return to his body. Then the efreeti appeared in a puff of smoke. It did not fire a spell as his air cousin had done and Anomen stayed his arm.

"I bow to your will. As every other genie should," the efreeti said, arms crossed on his chest, looking at Cordis. His tone was at the same time lashing with irony and with imposed respect.

"Spare your breath, fire spirit. I did not summon you. The lich that imprisonned you is now dead and you are free, under conditions."

The genie laughed. "Always conditions, O! clever one."

"Be grateful that I do not bind you to my will but only to your own contract," she answered with ire and his eyes literally fired with anger, but he kept silence. "You are free if you leave as soon as you are dismissed – in time measured in the Prime material plane time frame – and swear an oath not to attack us before your departure to a plane of your choice or later, as a measure of revenge – in a future close or far, in time measured in the Prime material time frame. You will not Dimension-door back to this plane unless rightfully summoned. You will Dimension-door directly back to your home plane."

"I agree to your terms," the genie agreed begrudgingly.

"You are dismissed. Enjoy your freedom."

The genie rolled his eyes even as he was disappearing through the planes.

The other soul gems were other men, all of them dying too. Anomen said a prayer for their freedom in death in the end, asking Helm's intercession to guide them beyond the veil.

"Sir Anomen?", Cordis asked when he was done with his prayer.

"Yes, milady?" There was the slightest trace of hesitation in his voice when he said "milady".

"I would request to bring back those parchments to Athkatla; I do not have the means to destroy them besides casting them, and you do not want me to do that, believe me. There is something troubling about this magic that needs to be dealt with."

Anomen was giving her a perplexed look. For a second she was even afraid that he might refuse.

"Very well, milady. We will bring back those parchments to the city and make sure that they are dealt with properly."

"Thank you, sir." She turned, and was about to take the first sheet of parchment to put it securely into a scroll case, when an outraged yell sounded through the tower:

"And who shall deal with them? The Cowled Wizards?"

"Squire Theophilus, I do not remember you requesting the right to speak freely," Anomen warned coldly. Cordis had not touched a single sheet of parchment yet. The squire calmed himself under his commanding officer's icy stare.

"I am sorry, sir, but I feel that this needs to be told," he pushed on obstinately. "All contact ceased with the corrupt mages five years ago and there has been no mages on the Order's campains since. And now we have a spellcaster with us, the allegiances of which we are not even aware of, and she is about to take a lich's magic with her back to the city? Am I the only one in this company that thinks this is worth questionning?"

Some of the knights nodded, although with uncertainty. There were sounds of protest all around; people did not want to outright back Theophilus up, but did not feel confident enough to openly disagree with him. Cordis felt an edge of unease; she could not tell them what was on this parchment. She could not.

"I value your vigilance against all magical corruption, young inquisitor," Anomen said, his voice still very cold, "but you shall not be disrespectful towards my daughter and her colleagues. I am aware that some of the Cowled Wizards are indeed corrupt, but what you imply is akin to those that say that paladins are evil because some of us fall."

There were heavy shouts. There also was the beginning of what would have been a brawl in one of the less commendable taverns of Athkatla. Cordis wasn't sure how this would end. She hoped Anomen knew what he was doing, and that he truly was as good with his men as he was said to be.

"Lady Cordis here is known to me. She is a friend of Imoen Coltrane, my Lady's sister, as most of you know. Imoen and her husband Kelsey know quite a few magic users and I asked them who could help the Order with a lich problem. They told me that lady Cordis is a very skilled magic user, that she has a good heart and that she is not affiliated with any mages group. If Imoen is willing to testify of her righteousness, then I am willing to give my word that she is indeed righteous."

There was a silence. Imoen's and Kelsey's names apparently impressed the Order's men, as was their commander giving them his word that a spellcaster could be trusted.

"And so, I see no point in disagreeing with Cordis bringing back those parchments to the city, if Imoen or Coreen or another trustworthy spellcaster is willing to do the necessary to have them destroyed."

There was a silence. Theophilus still looked angry, but the others appeared satisfied with the explanation. _Thank you, Anomen_, Cordis thought to herself, sighing.

Anomen finally turned to her and gestured her to gather the parchments. She put them all in a case as quickly as she could, her hand burning even once she had let go of the scrolls. Finally she fished Glasses of identification out of her pack and looked at the robes the lich had been wearing.

She hissed in disgust and stepped back when she saw the black enchantment woven through the robe's cloth.

"It would probably be a good idea to burn it before we go, lest an evil archmage find it."

They all went out of the room, then Cordis set everything on fire with a Fireball. It scorched her hand that was already burnt as it left her fingers and she yelled out in pain, a little surprised. They went down the tower and steered a good distance away from the tower. Anomen healed her hand, and she rammed Fireballs into the tower until it crumbled and there was nothing but burning ruins left. And they started back to Athkatla.


	3. Anomen's Tale

_Finduilas: thank you for the review. I followed your suggestions in the last review, and I'm glad you liked the part when Cordis reflects about humans. It's one of the good parts of this story, I think. As for Imoen and Kelsey, well… it was the idea I got from Jason Compton's modified epilogues. Not my idea, or if it is, then it's my saturated memory's fault ;-) I hope I don't offend Kelsey's author by unknowingly misquoting him or something, lol._

_So, to anyone… here is another chapter with a little battle… Tell me what you think of it; is it still too much gamespeak? It is more fighting and less spells or tactics, so… just tell me._

Chapter III. Anomen's tale (There's finally something coming out of Samir's lessons!)

They found their horses where they had left them earlier in the morning. Amousca mounted her small calimshite horse with elven grace. They started soon after for the camp where they had slept the night before. They were riding slower this afternoon than this morning; some were still wounded or drained.

They reached the camp a few hours later. The lady was offered the honour to go bathe first and she accepted, after offering her gratitude to all the others. She disappeared upstream, hidden from their sight by a rock and a dense copse of trees.

Squires were ordered to start the fires, other squires were ordered to bring back water from the river, knights took a while to rest and pray and healers went about the camp, checking on everyone. Echigam was awake now and, even if a little weak still from his serious injury, he was smiling and taking part in the chores of the camp. Anomen surveyed the camp with a watchful eye; everyone seemed relax and happy enough. There was a definite festivity in the air, the ambiance of a glorious victory. He walked about, patting backs and congratulating and encouraging.

He could see that the men were happy to serve with him, under him. It always felt a little strange to him to be a commander, when he stopped to think about it. He knew he was nothing like Keldorn, what a natural leader of men he had been. He was not even close to Sarevok or Imoen when it came to influence over people. But he liked to believe that his men followed him because they respected him, and trusted his competence as a strategist, a healer and a fighter. Soon he reached squire Theophilus.

"Well," he began, "squire, I remember seeing you giving a powerful strike to the lich. A good hit. I see that you are taking your lessons of combat in arms to heart."

"I also take my lessons as an inquisitor to heart," the young man retorted.

Anomen stared at him with all the ire he could summon. The other's gaze faltered.

"I hope there is nothing specific you are implying, squire?"

"No, sir," the other mumbled.

"Good, because this is the last time I will tolerate you doubting my word that lady Cordis can be trusted."

And with that, Anomen turned away, leaving the other staring at his feet, seething anger still visible in the flush of his cheeks and ears. Anomen remembered how he used to be so much like him. He smiled to himself and went on with his back-patting. If Theophilus just found focus to his anger and did not become over-zealous, he would be a good inquisitor. He was a talented fighter with the halberd and his True seeing never failed. If he could just stop to automatically suspect everything that remotely looked less than righteous…

He noticed that Cordis was back from her bath. Her strange, black hair was free, although it was plastered to her head because of the water. He noticed Proteor staring at her again and repressed an edge of anger. The cavalier was not ogling her this time; it was an honest stare, intrigued and appreciative, but not disrespectful. Anomen sighed and turned his attention elsewhere.

He went to sit with his officers near one of the fires. He set to the task of shining his weapons and armour with the rest of them, exchanging tactical comments about the past battle.

"Pit fiends are strong and quick," Nogam observed. "It is against nature that such a big creature can be so quick and limp."

"They are not natural, they are magical. Hellishly, evilly magical," Guervin said, shifting his blade between his hands.

"Indeed," Anomen agreed. "But their height makes them easier targets for short, slashing weapons."

"I believe you are referring to Mazzy's short sword in particular?", Matteo smiled.

"Aye," Anomen agreed. "The halfling lass has an impressive dexterity herself. She had developed an extremely efficient strategy to get rid of huge creatures like dragons, giants or demons. She would slip behind them and cut their Achille's tendon. It was very efficient, let me tell you."

"Most of us cavaliers did wield two-handed weapons," Proteor concurred. "It was hard to strike the demon's head or neck and his chest was well-protected by its scales and ribcage."

"Blunt weapons are also efficient in those cases," Anomen added. "The traditional knee-crushing is always useful."

"Yes, but then you have to get very close to the demon," Matteo objected. "What is to keep you from ending impaled on its claws like Echigam?"

Anomen sighed. "Good teamwork. A summon to keep it busy, or a blinding spell. Another team-mate keeping it distracted. It is not easy, but its mobility must be impaired if it is to be a target for two-handed slashing weapons."

The officers nodded.

"What makes it hard is that they are not stupid," Proteor added. "I did try to focus the demon's attention upon me, but it systematically lunged for the easiest prey."

"Yes, they do that too. It's worse when one or two spellcasters are in the way."

Everyone saw the look of remembered concern cross his face.

"I bet it is," Guervin grinned. "Now, will you grant us another of those many, glorious adventures from your past, milord?"

"This one was not so glorious, I am afraid. It was when I passed briefly through the Underdark in my lady's service, as a step towards Irenicus, which we were chasing at that time. We had agreed to help a village of Svirfneblin to get rid of a great evil that they had awoken because they had dug too deep."

ooooo

Anomen walked warily at Keldorn's left, to the head of the formation. Mazzy was at Keldorn's right, her short sword drawn and held at the ready. The line of fighters made a collective step forward when Imoen, just behind them, told them that the ground ahead was clear of traps. Behind Imoen was Amousca and Minsc was the rear-guard, a magical arrow notched on Heartseeker's string.

They soon reached the door that the svirfneblin mayor had talked about; two fighters were guarding it. The gnomes looked happy enough to leave their post to the surfacers and newcomers.

"We need to discuss battle tactics before we go in there," Amousca said when the gnomes were out of earshot. Her face was devoid of expression, as was her voice and posture. Anomen looked at her with concern. It seemed that, lately, every emotion faded out of her gradually; even her sudden bursts of fire and anger in the Asylum were dulled now. His heart ached to see her so grey and even. He remembered how lively she had been. How dead she looked now.

She ordered him, with her ever-neutral tone, to protect them from evil and from fear. She said she would summon two Mordenkainen's swords and had Imoen Animate dead. Anomen had just one Free action in memory, so she told him to use it on himself; Keldorn had his family armour and Mazzy, Arabane's sword. He obeyed without a word. He did not know how to talk to her anymore.

Then they went in the chamber and Amousca strutted forward until the very edge of the hole in the ground. Looking down, there was nothing in her elven darkvision. Nothing but absolute black, just like when she looked inside of herself. She thought of the darkness engulfing her. So much was dark.

They positioned themselves in a three-line formation, summons ahead. Anomen turned to see where Amousca was. He thought he saw a flicker of darkness. The Duergar's ring of infravision did not clear out all of the blackness. He began to wonder why she was staying still so long, so close to that hole of black. Then he was sure he saw a flicker of blackness, like a dark wing trying to envelop her. His heart fell into a tight grip. He lunged forward and grabbed her arm as she was swaying on her feet, apparently ready to fall forward into the never-ending blackness.

He saw the darkness dissolve around her at his touch, but she did not look up to him. She was staring down, with her face as hard as steel.

"It is coming."

She made a step back.

"Go back into formation," he ordered her. It was not a good idea to have her stuck between him, Keldorn, her summoned blades and a demon. The svirfneblin had said it was powerful; regarding what they had been battling in the Underdark besides Drow, this was not reassuring.

ooooo

"What else then Drow?", Guervin interrupted.

"Oh, kuo-toa and suhuagin. Those were slow enough; some wizards and priests among them, as well as an efficient military training, but they are not skilled enough. There were also Illithid and ulitharid; the mind flayers are real plagues, but with a Chaotic commands they at least cannot stun you, but they can still drain you of your brain, so it's always a good idea to have a summoned creature or two to distract their attention. The worse, by far, are the beholders. It is not pleasant when they turn three fighters into stone and they can hardly be webbed."

"It is peculiar to hear a knight of the Order speak so much of the magic of spellcasters. Your battle tactics are often influenced by this time in the company of magic users," Nogam observed.

"Yes. It is during my adventures with my lady that I defeated the most powerful foes, and I cannot imagine doing so without the help of Imoen's and Amousca's magic. Just as they could not have done so without warriors and a healer."

"Of course," Nogam agreed with a smile.

"Shall I continue?"

The hurried nods made him smile.

ooooo

Amousca did not have time to move; they heard the first of the groans of the demon. She took two steps towards her place in the formation, but then the demon extirpated himself out of the pit. Anomen felt the fear grip his heart, even through the magical protection of his own spell. The demon was huge. It was even bigger than the tanar'ri they had had to kill to power up the Sphere.

ooooo

"Bigger than a tanar'ri?", one of the squires wondered. The circle of listeners was quickly expanding. Anomen smiled again. _If only Samir could see me now._

"What was it?", another of the squires asked; this one was a cavalier.

"It was a balor."

There were hushed sounds of wonder as he went on with his story.

ooooo

The balor was huge, red and scaly. Its eyes were full of flames that promised of a painful death and even more painful torments for eternity in the Abyss. It had large, clawed wings and claws that bore talons. They were as sharp as razors and they sunk effortlessly twenty centimetres into rock as the demon escalated the wall of the pit to reach ground level. It breathed smoke between its gnarled horns. There were dark, reddish splashes on its horns. Its spiked back towered over them all, at least four feet above Minsc's head.

"Hand-to-hand!", Amousca yelled, before she made a step sideways to clear the way.

Anomen, Keldorn, Mazzy and Minsc rushed forward at her command. Her magical blades followed, metal whistling against the air with serious intent.

Anomen rushed to one of the sides of the demon, letting Keldorn take the front assault; him and Carsomyr needed space. Mazzy took the right and began to slash through wing and calf, everything that came within reach of Arabane. Anomen heard Imoen and Amousca both starting to cast. He did not have the time to try to recognize what was their spell. Minsc was already held.

The demon suddenly stood up, stretching upwards from its recoiled battling posture, letting a low and gurgling sound out of his throat. Anomen lunged for the occasion and rammed his Hammer of thunderbolts as hard as he could, wearing the Gauntlets of Ogre power, into the rib cage of the demon. Anomen heard the sound of cracking bone and felt his arm become numb to the shoulder with the unyielding solidity of the demon's side. The balor merely grunted before it recoiled again, turning its fiery gaze upon the warrior-priest. Anomen felt the fire sear through his mind and he closed his eyes. Without the Free action, he would have been paralysed. When he opened his eyes just an instant later, the demon had turned its gaze elsewhere.

He took a step back and let one of the Mordenkainen's sword fill the gap in the line of attackers. Imoen was over with her spell; it was a Lower resistance.

"Amousca's out!", Imoen yelled. "Hurry up, you bunch of cannon fodder! I can't kill it all by myself!"

Anomen winced. He looked behind him and saw Amousca, paralysed by the demon's glance. He started his spell. He prayed to Helm as he cast.

The Bolt of glory fell from the "sky" of the Underdark in a ball of yellow fire. The demon grunted again. It stretched upward and Keldorn drove Carsomyr across its stomach, the total length of the blade. Anomen had the time to see Imoen being paralysed by the balor's eyes. He rushed forward, aiming for a knee, just as he saw Keldorn struggling to free his blade and Mazzy swiftly sidestepping the demon's leg, ready to hit him behind the ankle.

The demon laughed, a terrible laugh, so loud the walls shook. Anomen felt the vibration deep within his chest. The beast crouched and jumped upward before Anomen's hammer touched it. The balor spread its wings as it jumped and gave two flaps of his wings, just enough to float for a second. Anomen's hammer missed miserably, carrying him forward. Keldorn stumbled backwards, Carsomyr brutally freed from the demon's insides. In the split second it took the demon to jump off the ground, he gathered himself and knocked Mazzy in the head with its foot, so hard she almost flew backwards. Her helmet flew off her head, hitting Imoen in the process, and Arabane was knocked out of her hand. She sprawled on the ground backwards, squirming on the ground, too confused to think to get away.

Anomen and Keldorn, horrified, lunged towards the demon, weapons at the ready, but he avoided them easily, merely floating on the side. Then he stopped to beat his wings and fell down on Mazzy. His eyes were alight with fire again and both knights saw the demon's gaze hold her. It fell upon her with hellish speed and ferocity. It ran her through with his claws.

Fortunately, Carsomyr slashing a wing in half and the Hammer of thunderbolts nearly breaking its hip distracted its attention, and it forgot to turn its claws as it extracted them from its victim. The demon turned its gaze of death upon Keldorn… and the paladin froze.

Anomen almost had the time to disbelieve what he saw. The Firecam family armour was supposed to grant Keldorn Free action. Anomen found himself praying feverishly that his spell would not end just then. And that the balor could not dispel magic. But then the demon knocked him away with a blow of his wing; the wing smashed into him from head to toe and sent him flying against one of the stone pillars, meters away.

And then the beast took off again, despite its wounded wing. It flew over the magical blades, hunching to one side, and landed right in front of Amousca and Imoen. Imoen's contingency made her invisible, but the demon could see her very clearly, because it threw both claws forward and each hit one of the spellcasters. It began exploding Stoneskins effortlessly as the magical blades and Anomen rushed back to attack it.

Anomen stopped half-way and called upon Helm once more to cast a Bolt of glory. Again it hit the demon and this time its injured wing was ripped off. The demon cried furiously and stopped to hit Amousca and Imoen. Both were out of Stoneskins. The balor had bitten Amousca's shoulder, apparently wanting to taste of elven flesh; a terrifying amount of her seemed to be missing and the blood was already staining her dress down to her waist. Imoen had been run through in the stomach, just as Mazzy.

The demon laughed again, as it turned towards Anomen, casually avoiding the Mordenkainen's swords. It munched conspicuously. Anomen felt like being sick. Sick of anger. Rage welled up inside of him, unleashed from some remote corner of his mind where it kept quiet, now. He had thought it gone with his Test, thanks to his lady's love. But he had been wrong. It was still there. And it was burning within him, giving him strength in his hour of need.

He was uninjured, practically. The balor went to Minsc, going farther from Anomen, and run him through with his claws too.

"I do like them when they are still warm," the beast said, with this demonic voice.

"This one is a little too warm for you to taste!", Anomen yelled as he finally, finally came within reach. He brought his weapon down on the demon's knee with all his might and all his soul. The demon lashed at his back with both claws, letting out a wail of pain that seared like fire into Anomen's mind. Anomen stepped out of the demon's reach. His back was burning. But he was still standing and he was still strong. And the demon was injured.

"I shall eat you first to heal myself, mortal insect!", the demon bellowed as it gathered itself.

Anomen carefully lifted his shield in front of him, unsure of what the balor intended. It was not a beast to beat on a one-on-one combat. The demon lunged forward in a sudden heap and collided with Anomen's shield with his hardened shoulder.

Anomen and the demon rolled on the floor in a confused mass of wing and scales and metal. The warrior-priest managed, to his amazement, not to end up under the balor's body at the end of the roll. He even managed to keep his shield and strike a hit before standing away.

The demon crouched into a defensive and measuring posture. He fended and retreated with Anomen for a few minutes. The human knew the demon was letting him tire himself and lose more blood. But the balor himself had one of his wings torn, a knee reduced to pulp, two great cuts that were bleeding its dark blood to the floor of the cave. Its breathing was whistling, his lungs filling with blood from its broken ribs.

Anomen felt a quiet overcome him. He saw very clearly what he had to do. He remembered his lady's smile. One of her swords was going to lash at the demon's Achilles tendon any second. The other was in front, vainly trying to hit the beast's rib cage.

He lunged forward, aiming for the second knee of the balor. The demon blocked easily with its claws and tried to hit back with his left claws, but Anomen blocked with his shield. His shield arm exploded with the feeling of crawling ants as he heard the splintering of wood. But he was balanced on his feet; his war hammer was high; he was ready.

He saw understanding fill the demon's gaze as he brought his hammer down. The balor tried to move back, but its destroyed knee would not hold its weight. It dropped on its knee. Its gaze filled with fire and hell.

"Take _that_!", Anomen triumphed.

The Hammer of thunderbolts crashed down on the demon's skull. It exploded and the balor let out a last wail of pain, fire escaping its eyes and breath as it died.

Everything was still.

The only sound was the rasping of his breathing and the rasping of his companions.

Anomen dislodged his war hammer with disgust. He let down the Dragon shield; it was nearly splintered in two. His arm was probably broken, but he couldn't be sure until it was a little less numb, at least. Despite the longing in his heart he evaluated the condition of all their companions. All but Keldorn and Amousca had been run through by the demon's claws. Imoen looked on the edge of collapsing, even under the paralysing spell. But Amousca's face was not even white anymore, it looked somewhere between greenish and grey.

Anomen went to his lady's side and cast one of his most powerful healing spells on her. Her shoulder reappeared in one piece, although there were still bleeding marks of teeth in it. But there were more urgent wounds to be taken care of.

ooooo

Anomen heard the collective sigh of relief as he told them the end of his story.

"Lessons learned," he said with a smile. "Only count on the Free actions."

There were relieved laughs around the fire. They had all been holding their breaths. Guervin grinned. "Well, my friend, I believe this is rather inconsistent with you telling us that you could not have defeated the most powerful foes without magic."

"I could not have hit it with my last strike if the demon had not been manoeuvring to avoid the Mordenkainen's swords," Anomen answered. "Those are very powerful summoned ones and, even if they had no hope of hitting a balor, they were still threatening enough for it to take the time to avoid them."

"I see. And you do not object to a weak female calling you "bunch of cannon fodder"?", Nogam inquired, barely hiding his laugh.

Anomen sighed dramatically. "I do have an objection, but I have learned to my expense that it is better not to get Imoen going on such subjects."

Matteo burst into laughter.

"Ah, women," Proteor sighed exaggeratedly.

"Speaking of women, Anomen," Guervin suddenly said, loud, "you're getting pretty spineless if you let your woman tell you what to do. You let her deprive you of your beard, this statement of your virility?"

There were some laughs. Cordis, on the outskirts of the gathering, on Anomen's side not to catch his attention, almost strangled herself not to burst into laughter. The few squires close to her apparently remembered that there was a woman in their ranks, but the rest had forgotten her presence. But maybe Anomen hadn't.

Guervin was wearing a full beard, like many of the young knights of the Order. It was generally considered more "manly" amongst the young men of Athkatla to wear a beard, at the moment.

"I do allow myself to please my lady in this way and others," Anomen answered with an ironic bow. This time there were laughs, shouts and some dirty comments. Cordis smiled to herself. This was how men behave when they had forgotten they were not among themselves. She could tell that Anomen was dying of envy to look her way.

"Your lady prefers you… unmanly?", Guervin pressed his friend.

"Maybe we should ask a lady's opinion on the matter," Matteo interrupted suddenly, lifting his cup of tea in Cordis's direction.

The howls quickly calmed down as the men were reminded that they were not alone. Anomen turned to her slowly.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?", she asked, with a playful smile that made a few of the knights whistle, but her voice all professional and cold.

There was a second of silence as Anomen looked at her. "Granted, milady. I have already told you that we value your opinion." There were more howls at that, but it was still reasonably contained and disciplined.

"It makes you look younger, sir, and it makes your eyes softer," she said, loud enough to be heard from the other side of the gathered men. There was some glitter of amusement in her eyes that told Anomen that she was not done yet. He was suddenly grateful that he still wore his full scale mail. She was insolent, with this pretence of military discipline. She was not usually like this; maybe it was the disguise that gave her this kind of boldness, but he was used to a much quieter version of herself. Half-elves and their frivolity, he added in an after-thought. Matteo had to start this, obviously. Had he no idea of what it was like to be called "sir" by her all over the place – he blushed –, and have her look at him like that – he blushed deeper – and tell this in front of all the Order's men – he now had to think to breathe ? Probably, and that was probably what was making it funny. He braced himself inwardly for what she would say next.

She suddenly waved her body, almost imperceptibly, but there was a rush in his blood. He hoped the fire could be blamed for his sudden colors. This slight move was one she usually made only when they were in private, and when she was leaning into him; it was her way of requesting that he lowered his head to allow her to kiss him. Amousca disguised as Cordis said immediately: "But I believe it makes your lips particularly conspicuous."

There were howls of laughter; even Matteo almost strangled himself, as he was taking a sip of tea. There were wild shouts and laughs and wails in the camp, a level of sound impressive for not more than thirty men. Suddenly a voice rose, indignant:

"Dishonour!", it shouted.

Amousca/Cordis was not surprised to see Theophilus objecting.

"How dare you say such depraved things about a wed man! Do you wish to dishonour his wife?"

She turned calm again, as did the camp around them. There were some whispers, however, people asking what was wrong with the annoying inquisitor. "Do you allow me to answer for myself, sir?", she asked Anomen. His best efforts to control his arousal were utterly ruined by his wife calling him "sir" again.

"Of course, milady."

She turned to Theophilus. "I meant no disrespect to either your commander or his wife. I merely wished to participate in the merry ambiance of tonight's victory and to socialize with the group. I thought the mood was to lightness, but I can refrain from being light in your presence, if it offends you."

There was more laughter and Theophilus, after one wounded glare at Anomen, sat back.

"My son asked for the opinion of a lady on the matter and I gave her the permission to say what she thought, Theophilus," Anomen said. "I take no dishonour in her comment, nor would my lady Amousca if she were here, I am sure."

Theophilus did not answer, but still it spoiled the mood for a while. Anomen felt the anger of Theophilus from where he stood, and he knew the others disliked him. The inquisitor reacted like that about lots of things and most disliked his attitude. He was annoying and arrogant, and had not enough glorious battles behind him to force the respect of the others. His commander hoped he would learn, in time.

ooooo

That night, Amousca restlessly tossed into her bedroll. She was not used to sleeping on the rough anymore, and she found the floor uneven and her bed cold. Of course, Anomen's presence usually contributed to make her bedroll considerably warmer. But it was not the physical discomfort that kept her awake.

It was the knowledge of what terrible spell she carried in her scroll case now that made sleep inaccessible. Try as she might, she could not figure a reason why the Rapture of the Father could be found in a lich's tower. The idea that this horrible spell she had survived was manufactured and distributed to evil spellcasters around Faerun made her very uncomfortable. Moreover, she had not had a single minute in private with Anomen to discuss it with him. She needed to hear him say that they would figure it out. She knew they would, but somehow when he was the one who said it, it was easier to believe.

She finally found sleep an hour later, and nightmares of Irenicus, the Slayer and Amelyssan came to torture her again after many years of peaceful sleep.


	4. Training Night

_Thank you, Finduilas, for your review, as always I am grateful for your suggestions :-) Well… to everyone else, I _do_ like reviews, you know… So feel free to comment on what I write._

Chapter IV. Training night

The next day, they started for the city early. Amousca rode close to the middle of the group, a little to the side. Waatsuskun, her familiar, was taking a little exercise, flying besides her. The men were restored and completely healed this morning, and the pace was considerably greater.

After a while of riding, Amousca saw Anomen falling back from the front, letting Nogam take his place as the ride leader. As she had guessed, he directed his horse towards her and adjusted his pace to hers. He steered his horse clear from the main of the group and said:

"Might I have a word with you, milady? There is something I need to discuss with you."

She shrugged and had her horse follow his. They stopped by the side of the road and let the Order's company pass them by. They waited until they were out of earshot before they started again. Amousca, with her elven eyes, could see Theophilus turning around from time to time to look at them in the distance behind. No doubt that he would scream scandal if he saw a hint of something that might look suspicious.

"Theophilus is spying on us," Amousca observed, neutral.

"I do not doubt that," Anomen sighed with half a smile. "And Proteor is ogling you behind your back."

Amousca grimaced. "Don't remind me."

"You must know what concerns me," he said. "What _was_ written on that lich's scrolls, my lady?" It was so much easier to call her my lady. He felt himself relaxing as he called her that.

"I-I-It was… It was the Rapture of the Father!"

She shrunk in her saddle. Anomen felt as though he was just hit by a very cold shower. His body covered in cold sweat and the hair on the back of his neck straightened.

"Irenicus' spell?", he asked. He felt stupid the very next second, but he was too surprised to stop himself.

"Yes," she whispered, with a terrorized voice he could understand. "But it was designed to use the souls bound to gemstones instead of souls bound to a living body. The lich wanted a soul and it wanted a powerful soul, because it took a genie."

He wanted to stop his horse and hug her. She needed it. By Helm, _he_ needed it. But there was still Theophilus turning around from time to time.

"Where did it get a copy of the Rapture of the Father?", Anomen asked.

"I don't know. Maybe… maybe Irenicus gave a copy to Bohdi who traided it with the lich… between undead, it must have been possible… but I don't know… I just hope there is no other copy of it on Faerun's face, for all the gods' sakes."

"Coreen will be able to tell."

"And Imoen if she doesn't. But we don't know yet, and a mage skilled enough to cast such a spell is a fearsome opponent, truly."

"I realize that, but nothing can resist us, my love."

Amousca smiled; weakly, but she smiled.

"You are forgetting your role, sir," she said.

The "sir" again. It was something to be called "sir" repeatedly by his elven wife, with very matriarchal ideas of the relation of men to women. Anomen smiled to himself.

"Well, my lady Amousca, no one else can hear but you, and I will not deprive my lips of the pleasure of speaking your name, if they cannot touch you."

The cantrip-disguised Amousca smiled at him, a little more convinced perhaps.

"We will find the other copies, if any exist, my love. Do not worry."

She sighed and nodded, drawing strength from his confidence. They rode together in silence for a while, then they pushed their horses into an easy canter to catch up with the rest of the company.

ooooo

The next day, they rode from dawn to the middle of the afternoon and set camp; they were just a day away from the city, but the commander was not in a mood to exhaust the men and the horses unnecessarily. But it would be unacceptable to keep the men idle for a whole afternoon and night. So, with the help of fellow conspirators – his officers and the freelancer spellcaster – he organized a training lesson instead.

Anomen was aware that it was pushing back their arrival to the city, the return to their responsibilities at the Order and their discovery of the manufacturer of the Rapture of the Father, but the occasion was too good to miss. The men deserved a bit of fun and lightness after such a difficult and successful mission. There was a perfect piece of land to plan such a practice lesson – a patch of dense forest, a putrid marsh and even an old, moss-eaten tower ruin. Besides, it was always good for the boys to crawl through the mud once in a while. The officers usually escaped the mud but ended up playing the villains instead.

The visible excitement and happiness of the squires and knights managed to make Amousca forget the unpleasant knowledge of what spell she carried in her scroll case. She watched the preparations with an amused smile and flicker in the eye. The squires and novice knights were held together near the fire, talking to one another in hushed tones, stealing suspicious glances at her and Nogam, the two villains designed to watch over the victims while their accomplices were building strongholds and setting obstacles through the forest.

Nogam was already playing his role; she had dyed his armour, sword, shield and hair black and made his eyes glow slightly green; he stood tall, towering over the sitting squires and looking over them grimly, occasionally snorting with terrifying disdain. He was Dark-knight. The other officers were already disguised; it had been funny to cast the small illusions that gave them this appearance and to enchant their wooden weapons with a slight stunning effect that would make the fights more realistic. But Amousca had not wanted them to know right away who she would be, so she had not masqueraded before going to watch the squires and novices.

Suddenly a lone wolf howl was heard in the forest – hopefully, the squires never knew that the organizers only got a wolf out of their Animal summoning the third time they cast it. It might have ruined their effect a little.

"You may go to your post now, lady Cordis. I will take over here."

"Very well, Dark-knight," she said in her best cold voice before she disappeared in a dimension-door.

"You may stand, take battle formations and ready yourselves. Then the game will begin. Remember, it is a game and none is supposed to be injured. However, do not be lazy, for your officers watch you."

The squires stood and neatly broke into five groups, three fighters front, two archers back, around Dark-knight/Nogam.

"You should not have come to this place," he said, deliberately borrowing the lich's line. He was rewarded with a shiver from some of the cavaliers that had battled the demon. "You insect filth can nothing against the power of my mistress. You will not have what she keeps. She was entrusted it because she is the greatest of her race, and you shall perish before her power."

"We shall see," one of the leaders said, a young paladin; he was usually Nogam's second. "Tell us where she is before we kill you," another threatened, a barely dubbed cavalier, promising, already Guervin's right arm.

"The knowledge will do you no good once you are dead," Dark-knight growled, in his deep voice. Then he gripped his sword, held his shield up, and ran to the battle yelling an appropriate "Die!" – of course "For Torm!" would not be appropriate in this case – as he crashed into his second, bashing him with his tower shield, splattering him to the ground, the air knocked out of him. Dark-knight brought his wooden sword on the other's shoulder and informed him: "You are dead." Then he had to spring his shield up to hold off the wooden swords' blows that came raining down on his head. They should have sent Demonknigt/Proteor in a fray like that with his two handed sword, he thought as he bashed another couple of them down with a blind charge with his shield up. He swiftly killed one with a fake blow to the head with his fake sword – not paying enough attention to the "Hold positions" to even hear it – but before he could set after a third one, he had to charge again not to be literally run over by the twenty-three left.

"Scatter!", he heard the desperate yell as he charged. He just had time to think "oops" when suddenly the compact line of squires in front of him dissolved into a mass of clanking metal in the fading light of sunset. His shield bounced harmlessly off a shoulder, but he was thrown off balance to his right and fell on the grass. The blows had already began to pounce on him even before he hit the floor. He felt some compassion for the men he had hit in the head (lightly, of course) with his fake sword; that stunning cantrip was rather strong.

He must have received like twenty-two hits on his back. It was so numb it felt sore. His ears were ringing. In between the ringing he heard the merciful "Hold" order and gave a silent prayer to Torm. It was the same voice that had told them to scatter. It was Echigam's voice. Good lad, Nogam thought, grateful, lying on his belly, his mouth full of grass.

"I believe it is dead. No use in stunning it to unconsciousness." There were some laughs. Nogam allowed his alter-ego to spit the grass and smile. "Let's see if he carries anything." With Nogam's second down, it was Echigam, Proteor's second, that was taking charge. He bent next to the dark knight and knocked the sword away with his foot.

"Nice shield!", one of the squires exclaimed, looming over the Stomus family shield. "Do you think we can take it?"

"I am afraid, my friend, that it is tainted by the most foul of evils," Echigam answered with exaggerated ceremony. There were some more laughs. Echigam finally fished a note out of the armour of Dark-knight. He read it, then sent it around for the other leaders to see.

"Meet me at the marsh after your patrol. Bring back some corpse to raise if you would be so kind. – Aes'garrick."

So the party minus three closed ranks together and headed for the marsh as the dead rose and spoke of their bad luck for already being out of the fun. That's when Nogam smiled, scary with his eyes glowing still, and told them it maybe wasn't so.

ooooo

The squires advanced carefully through the darkening forest. The sun was set, but there was still light in the sky, although the light did not reach the ground. They were going on a downward slope, with the ground getting progressively more wet and spongy.

Echigam was the one giving the marching orders; Nogam's second had been replaced by another novice knight, an inquisitor. They were advancing together, wary. They reached the edge of the trees facing the marsh together. He ordered a stop and everyone fell into position and examined the surroundings. Nothing was visible yet, but he ordered a True seeing just to be sure there were no illusions.

He ordered them forward and they advanced slowly, their boots sinking to the ankle into the mud and they soon had water just under the knee. Then they saw what they were to face. He did not have to order the halt.

On a strand of earth in the middle of the marsh stood two Skeleton kings; they were three meters high and each carried a shield and a war hammer sized accordingly. Skeleton kings were great warrior and priests. There were also a few zombies around them.

"Ranged weapons on the king to the left. My squadron will switch to close combat if the zombies reach us."

No offensive spells were allowed, because they could hurt seriously, but defensive spells were welcome. A few of the warrior-priests of Anomen's and Matteo's squadrons began to Chant. The training bolts, arrows and bullets were magically enchanted not to hurt, but to mark their target with a bright yellow spot, slightly glowing in the dark, to indicate if they had hit or not. The first flight of projectiles whistled over the marsh and sunk into the skeleton king's huge shield. Only one bounced harmlessly off the thigh's bone.

The zombies began to shuffle their feet their way, moaning and drooling, while the two skeleton kings covered themselves in defensive magics. The target of their first attack was suddenly surrounded by an Aura of flaming death; the water around his feet hissed and he disappeared into a cloud of steam.

Echigam dispatched the squadrons between the zombie targets; there was no way training bolts were going to get through that defensive magics the kings had. The zombies were suddenly multiplied as one of the skeleton kings finished its incantation. The zombies were closing. The front line switched to hand-to-hand fighting. From a distance, all that could be seen was the chaotic flicker of light on the moving armours. There were the sounds of battle, muffled because of the use of wood instead of steel as weapons. The squires fought frantically, as if their very life hung in the balance; the zombies they were facing were really tough and skilled. The monsters even managed to take down one of the priests before they were overrun by their fierce adversaries, now enraged by the loss of one of their own.

"At the kings!", Theophilus shouted as they were turning to face the others zombies; those were real and stank, but they were a lot easier to dispatch. "We have to close on them, otherwise they'll keep us fighting zombies forever!", he added.

"All on the right! Let the Aura of flaming death die out first!", another said, an inquisitor of Guervin's squadron.

"All on the right!", Echigam approved.

They dashed forward through the water. The skeleton king braced himself and walked forward until he could efficiently hold his assailants off the strand of earth, keeping the upper hand. But the Order's men were many, and they circled him. The king with the aura rushed to his rescue – at least as much as it was able to rush from his three meters height. They were very strong, capable of standing against the combined force of over ten men each.

Each killed three squires before being pulled down to the ground by too many hands to resist. The Order's men were now sixteen. They were mostly novice knights, because the squires had almost all been taken down.

"What now?", Theophilus asked; he was now Nogam's squadron leader, the other fallen.

"Let's breathe and heal our wounds for a while," Echigam decreed. The others were more than glad to comply. Most of them were panting after the long battle and had been stunned by at least one of the devastating blows of the skeleton kings.

"Keep watch," Echigam added.

There was nothing but the sound of panting and feet shuffling through the mud for a while. Then one of the watch yelled and there was the sound of something big falling into the water.

"Battle formations!", Echigam shouted.

The formations were quickly re-established, and everyone could see "Aes'garrick" the Demonknight. His full plate mail was dyed black and red, he had black claws and horns, and his eyes glowed bright red. A "dead" novice knight lay on his back at his feet; Demonknight had his left heel on his chest.

"Oh, you _will_ regret killing two of my favourite pets."

And he brandished his two-handed sword high above his head as he dashed forward. He killed two with just one sweep of his sword before they all crashed into him; this was Theophilus' order and it was brilliant, as the two-handed blade was now far less efficient, the others being too close. Aes'garrick/Proteor still managed to kill two others before he was vanquished – so to speak.

"Let's catch our breath a while longer, but let's keep watch _and_ battle formations," Echigam said. He was seeing their numbers drop quickly, and decided to gather the twelve they were now into two squadrons of six. He and Anomen's second, a warrior-priest, were the highest ranked, so they took command of one of the squadrons.

They were not interrupted this time, and searched their victims after a while. Not finding anything helpful, they searched for trails around and saw one, very well-defined. They warily followed it. It was deep into night now. They reached a small wooded fortress short after.

"Aha, is that all that is left of you?", a deep voice bellowed from over the palisade. The helmet of another Demonknight could be seen just over the edge of wood. "I had thought that fool Aes'garrick a lot weaker. Maybe I shouldn't have plotted his death then." There was a slight note of thoughtfulness in the voice.

"There are more than enough left!", Anomen's second laughed before giving the order to all those carrying blunt weapons to charge the palisade.

Echigam dispatched the remaining novices between range-weapons and palisade-go-rounding. Quite surprisingly, there was not much the Demonknight could do from up high in his fortress, because a magical projectile was always carefully aimed at its helmet if his head ever came into view. So there were surprisingly low casualties on the Order's side. In fact, no one died before Echigam's squadron reached the other side of the palisade and were faced with the Demonknight's wooden halberd.

"Fend it off for now!", Echigam said. The palisade was about to gave way to the attacks from the others. The Demonknight understood and started to charge forward.

"Charge!", Echigam bellowed, taking his sword up and running. He was barely able to deflect the halberd away from his head as he crashed into the palisade on the right, pushed by the other squires following close together behind him. The others were coming through a hole they had managed to do through the wooden wall. In the three seconds before the Demonknight was effectively crushed between the knights, he managed to fake-slice in half three of them. Then they were all against him, keeping his halberd stuck against his body. And he was killed.

Guervin sighed as he let himself sink to the ground. There were nine left to face Amousca; maybe they would have been better off facing them all together. There might have been more casualties.

ooooo

The nine novice knights found a strange glass sphere in the Demonknight's armour; it was filled with liquid where a needle floated, one of its sides glowing red and pointing in a direction. Each time they would turn the sphere, the needle would always turn to point into the same direction.

After some rest they followed it. It was not long before they reached a clearing in the middle of the forest. The moon was high and bright by then, lighting the area. The ground was devastated, turned upside down as though it had been ripped apart by giant claws. There was no more green visible in all the clearing, even if the trees around it seemed unscathed. There were ruins of stone at the back of the clearing; there was only half a tower left, with the gap in the wall facing them. The stone-covered floor could be seen, as well as a stone throne and a large black and red silky curtain behind it.

On the throne sat a fallen planetar. Her orange skin almost flared with fire; her blue hair was standing around her head like the spikes of a crown or an aura, and her eyes were sending a beam of fire across the clearing. Her blue wings were spread on each side of her, magnificent and royal.

"Men, we're dead," one of the inquisitor said; inquisitors were walking bestiaries.

"Knock it, Hugh," Echigam replied thickly. "Sir Anomen would not put us into a fight we cannot win."

"You're not supposed to resort to that to encourage your team-mates," a disembodied voice reminded.

"Sir!", Echigam stammered, looking around. "I'm sorry I… I…"

"It's alright, sir Echigam. I'm breaking the rules too, am I not?", the voice added, laughing. Echigam smiled and ordered his party to go forward.

The two groups walked carefully forward, wary not to trip on the uneven ground. It was not until they were half-way through the clearing that the fallen planetar rose from her seat. She was royal in her moves and Echigam had to suppress the urge to stop before he could press his comrades forward.

"Oh, most holy fighters of light," she said with mock disdain. "How arrogant of you to come for my hoard. And you have the presumption of stating your noble intents when you are so obviously driven by your lust for gold?"

"We have stated nothing yet," Echigam said loud. Then he murmured, just loud enough to be heard by those around him. "Don't listen. Keep formations. Summons, all you've got."

The priests stopped to cast, and got out of line as the others continued to near the fallen planetar. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. She was also terrible, and floating off the ground without even beating her wings.

She started to laugh when she saw the wolves and skeletons that were summoned by the priests. "Oh, really, you think you will hold me back with those?"

In no time there was a Mordenkainen's sword springing to life by her side. She sent it to battle the summoned creatures and started another summoning spell.

"Charge!" The novice knights ran forwards with a furious cry at Echigam's command. The priests started forward and other summonings. Mordenkainen's sword was already making short work of their beasts.

She was casting way too fast. Her Monster summoning was already done, and she was covered in Stoneskins even before they reached her. The first two blades exploded the first skin of stone as she finished to read the scroll to her Protection against normal weapons. They could not override her and pin her to the ground as they had with the others because she was floating off the ground.

The Mordenkainen's sword suddenly morphed into a wooden, stunning version of itself and started to dash at the knights. Of course, they could do nothing against it and Echigam dispatched a few to have it run in circles after them.

The knights kept hitting helplessly against her Protection and Stoneskin. She was casting again.

"Scatter!", Theophilus screamed, recognizing what spell she was casting – inquisitors could do that.

Everyone obeyed without question and suddenly a Web exploded near her blade. It caught four out of the nine knights, but not the blade. The other knights rushed out of the area of effect, the last one barely extirpating his hand out of the spider web, and rushed to attack her again, as her blade was cutting down to seize all of the webbed knights. This included Theophilus, unfortunately, who did not have the time to run far away enough.

"Protection's down!", one of the knights suddenly exclaimed, his wooden halberd dissipating one of the stoneskins.

"Keep hitting!", Echigam bellowed furiously. He brought his own weapon crashing down on the planetar's wing, the only thing within his reach.

She summoned another score of monsters before the last Stoneskin was out. One of the cavaliers left the fray around the planetar and went to distract them as Echigam ordered him. Then they began to hit her and hit her again, so many times it was defying the imagination, but then another series of Stoneskins went up and she started another spell.

When it was done, despair washed over them. She was healed. They had forgotten about the healing capacities of the planetars… But then her blade came unsummoned, and Echigam found his second wind.

"She's out of summons! Fight!"

This refocused the hesitant novices and they started to fight again with renewed fury, cutting through her Stoneskins quickly. She webbed them again, no inquisitor left to warn them this time.

They were all caught in the spider web. They all struggled with the strength of despair to get free of the web. But then she slowly, nonchalantly, flew forward and stroke down one, then another. Just before she reached the third one, the novice, a warrior-priest, managed to free himself and hit her across the chest, her last Stoneskin gone. He cried in relief and started to fend and parry and go forward, hoping to be too fast for the web to catch him. Then Echigam freed himself too, and joined his colleague in his frenetic battle.

They had not seen her move of retreat that would make her go just besides the last novice, still entangled. In one quick move she hit him with her sword and he died. The two remaining novices started forward even faster. Esox, the warrior-priest, brought his mace crashing down on her chest. Echigam cut a wing in half with his two-handed sword. She sent Esox flying backward with a blow of her fist in his chest. Echigam aimed for her neck, her extended arm showing him a perfect overture, and precisely brought down his sword between her head and her wing, straight on the side of her neck.

She let out a grunt of pain and fell to the ground, apparently choking, both hands to her neck. Cordis's illusion was shattering, appearing and disappearing in different parts of her body, as was the invisibility hiding Anomen and the other officers.

Anomen could be seen kneeling on the ground besides her, as the invisibility was showing and hiding him in a swirling of colors. He started to chant and his deep voice lifted in the night. It was only a minor healing spell and suddenly she started to take huge, loud gasps of air.

"Oh, thank you!", she exclaimed, a hand on her chest, still sitting, trying to catch back her breath. Her illusions steadied themselves, and suddenly she looked like the fallen planetar again.

"My apologies, milady," Echigam said, still in shock. "I… I was caught up in the fight and I didn't think I would hurt you…"

"It's alright, sir Echigam," she said with a smile. "Besides, I don't think your friend will forgive me for punching him like that wearing the Girdle of frost giant strength."

Esox was also sitting on the ground, while the dead were rising or becoming visible once again. He wasn't saying a word, but they could all see the trouble he had to breathe. Again Anomen walked to him and healed him. The look of relief on his face was plain to see.

There was a pause.

"Well, is no one curious about that hoard at all?", Anomen said.

The squires and novices stared at each other in puzzlement. Then the fallen planetar, who had not surrendered her illusion just yet, gracefully floated to the red and black curtain behind her stone throne. And she let the curtain fall. There was a beautiful long sword behind it, standing magically on its tip. The fallen planetar grasped its hilt and lifted it.

"This is Adjatha, the Drinker. It is a most powerful sword, and it is for the winner of today's tournaments."

There was a silence.

"Well, that scattering order in the beginning stopped me efficiently," Nogam/Dark-knight said with a smile. Echigam blushed.

"That scattering order just before my Web was also highly disabling," Amousca/Cordis/Fallen planetar said with a smile. Theophilus blushed.

"This charge order on me is what stopped me," Guervin/Demonknight said. Echigam blushed deeper.

"Although, it was Theophilus' idea to attack immediately the skeleton kings," Matteo/Skeleton king added. Theophilus blushed deeper.

"And they both showed great skill in their fights," Proteor/Aes'garrick compromised.

"But, it was Echigam that dealt the final blow. And he was in charge, giving very insightful orders all along," Anomen/Skeleton king decided. "Therefore, he is the winner of today's training lesson, and wins the fallen planetar's hoard."

There were joyous cries of victory as Echigam made a step forward and bowed in front of the lady, before standing up at her command. Then she presented him with the hilt of the sword and he took it, thanked her and thanked his commanding officer, Anomen.

Theophilus stared in jealousy for a second. Then Esox walked to him and nudged him with his shoulder.

"Come on, at least they haven't forgotten _you_," he joked with a good-natured smile.

Theophilus laughed, nudged back, and applauded and yelled with the others.


	5. Original Nightmares

_Hm, life is busy these days, but anyway, here goes the next chapter. Don't be shy, please, I am hoping for reviews! (Btw, as always, thank you very much Finduilas)_

Chapter V. Original nightmares

It was deep night when they finally reached their camp after having cleaned their armour and boots from the mud of the marsh into a river. For once the lady let the others bathe first and stood guard over the camp all by herself. She wasn't even concerned about being left alone to guard a whole camp.

She just walked around, patting the horses and making sure those that were wearing hobbles were not too tight. She whispered sweet things as she gave sugar cubes to those that were the more tired or the more depressed, missing their masters or afraid of the infinite night. Many were citizen horses, not used to the great outdoors, and were feeling uneasy in the night. Her calimshite horse was not impressed by the night, after living it countless times in the desert, and he tried to show it to the others to make them feel better. With the sugar cubes, it worked.

Then her elven hearing caught a noise behind her. She saw the horses shake their head and turn their ears too. She turned to look and saw a bunch of bandits that were coming this way. She counted quickly. They were twelve. She stoneskinned and walked away from the horses, closer to the center of the camp and the bandits. They saw her and grinned, although their leader held them back, saying there had to be men somewhere; it was unlikely that a woman alone needed such big a camp and so many horses.

They were wearing chain mail in the best of cases, studded leather for most; they only had non-magical swords and there was just one mage with them. Amousca cast a True sight as they slowly came nearer. She didn't cry out for alert. They might decide to rush and there might be a bunch of half-naked knights running here.

"You should leave," she said quietly when they were within hearing range.

"Really?", the leader smirked. "And why would we do that, sweetheart?"

"Because I am no sweetheart. Unless you all want to end up withered or burned to death, I suggest you leave now. And put back down this pair of boots." She looked coldly at one of the thieves who was measuring a pair of boots by one of the bedrolls.

There were some laughs.

"I am afraid you are merely bluffing, and we have a capable mage of our own. Sorry, my good lady, but I have to decline your offer."

"Very well, fool," Amousca said.

She started to cast and was done with her Red dragon's breath even before the other mage was done with her defensive spells. The red dragon's head appeared and breathed a ball of fire in the midst of them. The mage was not dead yet, but it wouldn't be long. Some of the thieves were already dead, but others that had managed to roll away were standing painfully, skin blistered and hair burned.

They rushed towards the sorceress. She cast a Khelben's warding whip on the caster, who was in the process of calling upon lightning. The lightning bolt fried to death two of her own colleagues and went through Amousca's chest without even appearing to hurt her, just after her spell left her hands. After she was sure she had dispelled the other's Spell turning, she started her Abi-Dalzim's Horrid Wilting.

The thieves' weapons exploded some of her Stoneskins, but she could avoid most of their strikes, even while casting. There was doubt starting to appear in their posture. She finished her Horrid Wilting even before the other mage had thought of another spell to cast. There were only two left alive after her spell.

"You can run away now, unless you want me to web you and wait for twenty-five knights of the Order of the Most Noble Radiant Heart."

The two hesitant thieves ran away. Amousca levitated the corpses out of the camp and lined them one next to the other. She would wait to see if Anomen would choose to raise them or bury them with a small Earthquake.

The knights came back nearly half an hour after that. They were stunned to see that the lone spellcaster had killed ten bandits without even enough of a fight for them to hear. Anomen chose to bury them with an Earthquake, and healed Amousca from the lightning that had gone through her chest. He let his hand linger on her shoulder just an instant longer than necessary and she was glad to be cantrip-whitened, because she would have blushed. But then he took his hand away and went around the camp to distribute congratulations and discuss strategies about the night's training.

ooooo

Again Amousca was alone in a cold bedroll that night. She felt a little better to know that they would reach Athkatla the next day, and she would be free of the burden of her scroll case. She also was impatient to hear a magical engineer's opinion on the matter of the manufacturer of such a spell. She always missed Imoen in those occasions; Imoen would have made her laugh. The thief girl had matured nicely into an accomplished archmage, but it seemed that, for Amousca, she could still shed all gravity and manners to be just a mischievous little sister.

Amousca smiled to herself, alone in her bedroll under the stars. Imoen was far from Athkatla at the moment and even if she would not help her with the Rapture of the Father, she could still make her smile and feel better. There were other mages that would help her to see this scroll business through. Coreen and Morul, surely, and possibly Firiman…

ooooo

Amousca was dreaming of demons. This was a rather original nightmare, she mused from some remote corner of her mind as the Blood War unfolded before her eyes. She was more used to dreams of dead corpses in her wake or of Anomen turned a vampire or of Irenicus and being soulless and turning into the Slayer again.

There were hordes of demons, legion after legion after legion of them; there were the Tanar'ri and the Baatezu, fighting forever with their eternity of existence and immensity of power. She looked as they took positions on one of the great hell plains. There was an army of demons to one end, another to the other side, and legions of tieflings and other slaves and pets in between. There were tortured souls leaving the ground with a wail to lose themselves in the infinity of the fiery sky. She was between the armies, on the below ground where she looked up at both armies crashing down the soft slope towards her.

The slaves had bloody eyes and many were frothing as they ran, weapons drawn, a wild look about them. They were screaming louder than the tortured souls and she could feel the psychic lash of the demons at their slaves. Metal was clanking and the ground was shaking, the thunder of thousands of feet moving it to the very core of hell.

She was afraid. She was paralyzed. She watched with growing fright as they moved closer, ever closer, the color of their eyes could be seen, the scars from the torture, the torment in their soul. She curled into a ball on the unwelcoming ground.

Feet kicked her as the two armies of thralls collided one into the other. She screamed and stood and started to run, afraid enough now to run. People were falling all around her. She thought she saw Montaron and Xzar, but did not turn around to make sure. On and on she ran, dodging weapons and bodies. Until she came to an halt.

Here the demons were battling within themselves. The battlefield was drenched in their blood and the chaos was now of scales, wings and hooves. A baatezu with the look of a slayer and a winged tanar'ri were circling each other with great care, very close to her.

The tanar'ri was big, its wings half-folded, held high to be out of reach and ready to land off; the baatezu was blue and scaly, with many rows of teeth and impressive talons on its claws. Amousca froze once again as they looked upon her. Then the tanar'ri turned its gaze of fire upon her and the fire burned her to her very soul, and she could not move anymore, held in the fire of its eyes. And the baatezu looked upon her with its eyes as black as the deepest pit of hell, and she was seized in a fear she had never felt before. She would have been sick if she had not been held by the tanar'ri.

Both demons turned to her and walked to her side by side. She wanted to scream and run and cry, away from this hellish place, but she could not move, she could not move!

She could not move!

The demons paused before her and both breathed into her face, looking at her at eye level with a terrifying smile baring their rows of teeth. She wanted to shiver and turn away from their stare. She could not move!

Then the tanar'ri slowly made a long thin cut across Waatsuskun's back. And the baatezu slightly cut her across her wrist. She thought she would have to faint. She could not possibly be so afraid and not be dead. She could not move!

With one last lash of fear she saw the two demons take a step back as they began to laugh. She saw both their talons being pulled back to take a run-up. And both run her through with their claws, ripping her chest apart as they pulled their talons out of her.

ooooo

She screamed and sat and clasped both hands over her heart. Her heart was pounding so fast it was like a blur within herself. She was drenched in cold sweat. She forced herself to stop screaming and just moaned for a few more seconds, both her hands clasped to her heart. She could hardly breathe.

Already Anomen was coming towards her. He was not rushing, he was just walking – she had awoken everyone in the camp with her scream – she was just lady Cordis here. She was beginning to breathe again, seeing her chest was alright.

But then she saw the demon claws around her ankle. Panic seized her and she screamed again, almost a Banshee wail, and directed the full force of it towards the demon, but she stunned the squires that were sleeping the closer to her nevertheless. Anomen was rushing now. She grabbed her staff and hit the demon with the Staff of the Ram, but the hand did not move. It started to pull her into the ground. She tried to hold herself aloft using her staff and stuck it on the ground on both sides of her. Anomen and Matteo were rushing now. The stunned men closer to her could do nothing to help her. She grasped everything she could catch as she was pulled down into the ground. She could see the gate open under her.

Then Matteo reached her and grabbed her under the arms, closing both arms around her and trying to hold her with all his might. Anomen arrived a second later; he tried to hold her without letting go of Crom Faeyr, which was giving him great strength.

Stunned men were starting to recover. One of the priest protected her against evil. The others approached and some tried to help to hold her, but it was quickly becoming obvious that they could not hold her without seriously injuring her. Anomen felt despair well up inside of him. Matteo fought with despair's energy. No matter the color of her eyes, Anomen could read through them, and he could see that she was scared. Scared half to death, actually. And then, as his grip was loosening, despite his best efforts, as was Matteo's, he saw her face change. It became sudden steel and she turned her head downwards, looking the demon that was Gating her straight in its fiery eyes.

"It's the ka'rashur baatezu of Watche…"

And then she was swallowed whole by the Gate. Anomen had to dig his hand out of the ground.

"Blasphematory bitch!", he heard.

He turned and hit the other right on his nose. He didn't even look who it was. Anger was washing the color out of his sight, and he was satisfied with the feeling of bone and cartilage breaking under his knuckles; he still held Crom Faeyr.

The other was falling on his ass when Anomen regained some measure of self-control, seeing Matteo letting down his weapons and rushing towards the man on the ground. Anomen caught him in a waist hold. He held his son back as he was punching his arm and shoulder with both fists, kicking him in the shins with his feet and screaming:

"How dare you! How dare you say that of my mother! How dare you hold me?"

One of the priests knelt beside the fallen man, who was writhing and groaning on the ground. He gave him a minor healing spell. Matteo didn't stop to yell. Suddenly the man spoke.

"Your mother?", came the numb voice of Theophilus.

Anomen silenced Matteo before he could say anything foolish, but everyone saw him mouth "son of a bitch", still squirming to get free from his father's grip. The half-elf should have been able to resist such a simple spell as silence, but he was far too angry to muster the necessary concentration.

As mist dissipated from Theophilus' mind, he started to notice that Matteo wasn't the only one that looked angry. Anomen was not looking exactly pleased either and, if he remembered correctly, it was his fist that had knocked him out. Nogam and Proteor suddenly caught Matteo between them, and Anomen let go to turn to face Theophilus.

"If you do not take back those words about my wife, young squire, I will challenge you and have you routed from the Order," Anomen stated very coldly, very calmly.

"Your wife?", Theophilus asked again, dumbly. "But she said that the Watcher had ka'rashur servants!"

"She was cut mid-sentence," Anomen cut coldly, so coldly. "Now this is your last chance to take those words back."

There was a silence. "I am sorry, sir, I had no idea it was your wife."

"Even then, Theophilus, had she not been my wife, she would not have deserved such harsh language. Take it back."

There was a commotion behind them and sudden shouts of alarm. But a low voice said:

"If you challenge the boy, Delryn, he'll have a champion."

Anomen recognized the voice with a mixture of relief and annoyance. He told the lookout to stand down. "He insulted my wife, Sarevok," Anomen stated. "Stay out of it."

"Worse has been said about Bhaalspawn," Sarevok remarked calmly.

"She's a Bhaalspawn over that? How in the Nine hells could she…", Theophilus began.

"If you want a champion, I strongly suggest that you stay silent," Sarevok threatened. _He_ managed to silence the young inquisitor. "Now, could we stop bickering and start the rescue, yes? That's what _you _do, isn't it?"

Anomen turned to Theophilus. Matteo had not took his eyes off the inquisitor, even though his father's ire against the squire had quieted him a little.

"I take my words back," Theophilus said. "My apologies."

Anomen refrained from saying something else, Matteo from mouthing anything. Imoen and Kelsey were already over Amousca's bedroll, pouring powders and flaring herbs and doing other magic-users tricks. Minsc and Mazzy were standing calmly, not far from there.

"She's been taken by the Ka'rashur of the third level of Watcher's Keep," Anomen pointed out.

Imoen sprang to her feet. "Why didn't ya say so sooner?", before starting to measure some more powders and hair with Kelsey's help. "I can gate us to the second level only, because of the dead magic zones of the third level."

"Remember to be careful with that Ward, Immy," Kelsey scolded.

"Yes, yes, of course, of course, and don't forget to close that gesture," Imoen mimicked as she was preparing the gating ground.

Anomen gave his orders to have the rest of the Order's men to go back to Athkatla to report their victory over the lich, and his unpredicted marital problem.

"You don't think of sending me back with the rest of them?", Matteo snarled, now that the Silence spell was over.

Anomen sighed. "Matteo, this is not the only issue. There is the question of those scrolls we found in the lich's tower. It's a copy of the Rapture of the Father."

"What?", Imoen asked, nearly hysterical. Kelsey put a hand on her shoulder and she turned to bury her face in his shoulder. An uneasy quiet settled on the men of the Order. It was always a grim circumstance to be confronted with evil of such extent.

"What?", came the slower answer of Matteo, frozen.

"You must get those scrolls to Coreen or Morul or another wizard of power and trustworthiness to have them destroyed. And find who is creating them. Do you understand?", Anomen asked, the urgency plain in his voice.

"Y-yes but… but you can't possibly go through Watcher's keep alone?", Matteo asked.

Sarevok let out a low chuckle. Proteor shot a look at the tall warrior, then said:

"Well, if there is enough room for us to come through the gate with you, I know a small contingent of cavaliers that would be more than happy to help you to battle some more demons."

"Watcher's keep is no easy trek, Proteor," Anomen opposed himself. "That pit fiend summoned by the lich was not half as bad as some of the demon lords down there."

"I will only take the willing knights with me, then, and will not accept squires." Two of the four cavalier knights stepped out of the rank bravely to stand next to their officer.

"Another hand is always welcome, Delryn," Sarevok said. "We can manage alone, though, and it's your choice to let your men come or not."

Anomen made a pause, even though his heart was screaming to go as quickly as possible to his lady's rescue. She would be drained of magic and spells after all those illusions during the training and her lonely fight against the bandits. He closed his eyes and forced himself to focus.

"Matteo, you will go back to the city and determine if there are any other copies of the Rapture of the Father. Do not go after the manufacturer of those scrolls unless you have a battalion of offensive and breaching mages with you. Is that clear?"

"I understand, sir," Matteo said, his voice cold and strained.

"Sarevok," Anomen turned to his brother-in-law, "can you spare Kelsey for a while? We need Imoen to gate us in and out of Watcher's keep, but it would be good to have at least one spellcaster going after the mage that's creating scrolls of the Rapture of the Father."

"We can manage," the warrior said. "In the worst cases we'll just rest for Imoen to study her spells."

"Shut up, ya bluster. I'm an archmage, and can deal more damage than you."

"Of course, sis," Sarevok grinned, before he winked to Kelsey, who was doing at least as much damage as her.

"Okay, I run after the evil mage with the knights. Got it," Kelsey said, before he gave a quick kiss to Imoen, whispering his goodbye in her ear. He went to stand next to Matteo.

"Proteor, novices, you are with us," Anomen ordered. The cavaliers stepped forward gravely.

"Okay, gather everyone, we're going down," Imoen said as she completed the last preparations to her modified Gate. "And a protection from fear might be a good idea, just in case…"

Anomen granted them the protection, and they were swallowed by the Gate. Matteo took a breath. He turned to Nogam, the highest-ranked officer now.

"Your order, sir," the undead hunter said, nodding respectfully.

"To Athkatla. Close ranks. Kelsey, you ride with the inquisitors. They'll True sight for you if you ask."

"Fine, Matteo… sir," the sorcerer amended. He thought to himself he had to ride with the inquisitors. A sorcerer in the middle of inquisitors. How funny.


	6. Rescue Mission

_Well, as always, thank you for your review, Finduilas. The explanation about Sarevok & co with Anomen & co will be explained later on :) As for the knights reacting to the Rapture of the Father's name, I think you're right. Hm, I don't know how I'm going to change it… I have to think on this. As for Sarevok championing Theophilus, well, Sarevok just likes to annoy Anomen. Besides, if Anomen didn't manage to make the boy back down, then Sarevok surely would have made it._

_The rescue had to wait until the first half of the end of semester was over. Now I just have exams to worry about, eh, life's easy now (snicker). Maybe the rest of the story will be published as a post-mortem homage by my boyfriend if I don't survive the coming exams. But let's hope it doesn't come to that. Eheh._

Chapter VI. Rescue mission

Matteo was slightly worried when he pushed the door to prelate Zarath's office. He was apprehensive, exhausted from the nightly ride to Athkatla, and not sure to be in full possession of his wit. He nevertheless went in, followed by Nogam who stood respectfully a step behind. The prelate frowned when he noticed the youngest officer obviously in command, the second-ranking officer standing behind silently and the commander, sir Anomen, conspicuously absent.

Matteo braced himself inwardly and began his report to Zarath about the mission. He tried to imitate the easy confidence of his bard of a brother as he did so, but it was not easy to explain to the most honoured member of the Order why his commanding officer was absent, why the second-ranking officer was not in charge, and why he needed a special permission to communicate and seek help from the Cowled Wizards. It seemed, however, that he made the right gamble as explaining part of this as a family affair. Zarath was not pleased, to say the least, but at the mention of Irenicus and his spell, he agreed that the matter was grave enough to warrant an extraordinary permission to make business with the Cowled Wizards.

Matteo let out an inaudible sigh when he closed the prelate's door behind him. The tension that had started to leave him came running back when he realized that he needed to go speak to Coreen as a knight of the Order now. His sister was just a junior mage, and there would be political agitation in the Cowled Wizards' organization because a young member was collaborating with the Order. How complicated this whole story was. Matteo knew that, with Zarath's official permission, he would not put himself into trouble by going to the Cowled Wizards accompanied by Nogam. Things could be different for Coreen though. Matteo sighed, his expression becoming concerned, and Nogam said:

"You should not worry, sir Matteo. With prelate Zarath's leave, you do not have to fear recrimination for your actions."

"It's not for me that I'm worried. It's for my sister. The Cowled Wizards too have motives and plans, and they dislike the Order. My sister is only a junior member. I can't go to Firiman or Morul, because I would put them in even more trouble, because they are not involved in this "family affair". I would not trust anybody else. So I have to put Coreen in an uncomfortable position. I can only hope that lady Nalia can smooth things out for her."

Nogam gave a benevolent smile to his younger colleague. "Your concern for the consequences of your actions and your determination in doing what you must are all to your advantage, sir Matteo. They are the mark of a good leader."

Matteo stared at Nogam for a second, astounded. "Thank you," he managed.

Nogam's smile stretched into a full grin, seeing Matteo's embarrassment. "Although, since lady Nalia is of my acquaintance – a remote cousin on my mother's side – I dare say that you need not fear for your sister."

At that Matteo laughed, but he quickly turned sober again. "What a mess this mission turned out to be. But we have discovered a much greater evil, and we shall do what we must. Come, Nogam, we'll go alone – I doubt Kelsey will wish to step foot into the Cowled Wizard's building."

ooooo

Imoen's Gate modified itself in the middle of the trip. They landed on the third level, in the middle of a dead magic zone that killed their protection from fear. So they ended up running around in panic all over the place, all but the cavaliers who set to the task of not letting the baatezu tear their comrades to pieces as they were overwhelmed by their fear.

Sarevok was the first one to overcome his fear, and he rushed to the help of the paladins with a great battle cry. He reached deep within himself, thinking of his sister at the hands of demons, and his rage granted him the power of Smite.

Psion's blade cut easily through the first demon's back. It was rammed by Sarevok's power well over the room, where it crashed into a stone pillar and did not move anymore. Sarevok hit all the demons one after the other, scattering them to give some room to breathe to the novice knights. He had already vanquished three in his killing spree when Anomen and Imoen recovered. Anomen rushed to stand with his brothers in arms in the battle, while Imoen quickly gained cover behind them; without spells and without Stoneskins, she could not stay in the middle of the battle.

The battle was soon over, even before Mazzy recovered. Sarevok tried not to smirk at the cavaliers' awed look. They had never seen a true warrior before, only great paladins and warrior-priests like Anomen; those had a great skill of their own, but they were not true and complete warriors. They could Smite, but they could not master their weapons as he had. They could not swing so quickly or so precisely and there were many combinations of thrusts they would never master. Sarevok's lifelong training had been completely focused on the mastery of his body and two weapons of choice – the two-handed sword and the crossbow – and he was excellent at what he did. He wielded his sword with a speed and force that no one else but another warrior training exclusively his sword skill could ever equal. This level of mastery was a demanding one, and there was no compromise allowed for prayers or other endeavours.

"Anyone remember where we should go from here?", Anomen asked. Sarevok repressed a little anger at being removed from authority. But the other had asked a worthy question, no doubt.

"Amousca would have…", Imoen said slowly. "She wrote everything in that journal of hers. Ah, I knew I should have done the same."

"Wasn't there a madman's journal?", Mazzy asked.

"The elf? Yes… Yakman," Sarevok remembered.

"Amousca brought it back to Athkatla," Anomen cut. "It's in her "horde of treasures" in the Sphere. She took it as a souvenir."

"She always had a taste for creepy souvenirs," Imoen said.

"Well, maybe we should go through the south, fight whatever we come across… and draw a map as we go," Sarevok suggested.

"I'll take the map," Imoen said.

"I'll take the fight," Mazzy added with a smile.

And so they started their exploration of the many rooms.

ooooo

They fought a great number of foes, in a great number of rooms, and Imoen was beginning to feel crazy, trying to map their non-linear course. Sarevok helped her a little, but the others could hardly contribute anything. They even reached the tanar'ri enclave somewhere along the way of their random route. The demons had been aware of a new development in their war with the baatezu of the Keep, but they had not been aware of what was happening exactly, and had stated that they would learn it from their dead brains.

They did not, obviously, because none was alive at the end of the fight. Both novice knights were very badly wounded, but after healing by Anomen, they were ready to continue, if a bit shaky. Proteor managed to reassure them; he was a good leader of men, but they were not that much prepared to face such demons. Sarevok quietly gave the order to protect them in the following battles, not letting them take the front line.

Eventually, after a great many battle, they reached the Baatezu. Anomen hurriedly protected them from fear, even before the devils noticed their appearance; they were focused and constantly searching for the approach of other demons, but a tiny group of humans had escaped their notice. They were circling what appeared to be a table, all bent over it, their massive bodies hiding what was emitting those small, pitiful cries.

Imoen disarmed a trap at their very feet.

"Range weapons until Imoen tells us that the way is clear," Sarevok said low, as all the devils were turning to them.

Amousca was nowhere to be seen. As the demons turned from their work, a torture bed became visible between them. On it, Waatsuskun was tied down. He was covered with bruises, cuts and burns, and he was squirming in his bonds. He was also gagged, with a dirty piece of cloth that appeared to have been torn from Amousca's dress. At least, if Waatsuskun was alive, it meant that she was also. But if Waatsuskun was tortured, she was unlikely to be in any good condition.

Anomen felt the worry grip his heart. Last time he had seen Waatsuskun in such a bad shape was the very day he had met Amousca. He had been standing in the Copper Coronet for six hours straight that day, for the fifth day in a row, and he was thoroughly bored. He had been staring idly around, looking for someone else than the De'Arnisse girl or the despicable dwarf Korgan to begin his Wanderings with, so far to no avail. And then she had walked in. She had came in after a giant man wearing a threatening-looking horned helmet, an half-elf in chain mail and a kara-turan thief in studded leather. She was so small, and wore so dull clothes that he had almost missed her. But then his eyes had made out her slim silhouette in the dim light. All her companions looked battered and exhausted, but she was the worst, by far. She was limping badly, using her staff to walk, and a scaly wing was hanging over her shoulder. From the look of her clothes and the fact that she had a familiar, he knew she was a spellcaster. She had walked forward, looking for a place where to sit, and her search was drawing her closer to where he stood.

As she had come nearer, he had seen how badly injured she was. Half her face was swollen and blue, one of her eyes barely able to open. Her right hand, gripping her staff, lacked all of her nails, and the destroyed end of her otherwise beautiful fingers was bleeding diffusely. Her clothes were dull and torn in many places, and even through the small slits he could see cuts and bruises on her skin. Fresh blood plastered her dress on one of her legs, and she did not put any weight on it at all. The wing of her familiar was covered with cuts and bruises; many bones were obviously broken, and there was one open fracture.

The young squire he had been was revolted by such a sight. How come a young elven lady such as her could be so ill-treated? It was obvious she had been tortured; there was no other reason her nails would have been torn off. So he had just walked in front of her, halting her in her unsteady limping. She had stopped, lifted an annoyed regard on him, bothered to be stopped in the middle of her effort. He had begun to cast even before any of them had said anything. He had seen that she had recognized his spell, and she had not moved. He had finished his spell, and put his hand lightly on her shoulder. The swelling of her face had almost disappeared, although not completely. She had swayed on her feet slightly, and he had kept his hand on her shoulder to steady her; sometimes, really badly hurt people fainted when they were healed, because of the pain that suddenly got away. Then she had shrunk from his contact.

"What brings you, fair lady, to this cesspool of corruption?", he had asked.

She had snorted with exhaustion. She had told him she needed a rest, as did her companions, and he had offered his help. She had barely hesitated before accepting and introducing him to the rest of the party. He had taken an immediate liking to the simple man, Minsc, and was immediately smitten with her. He had quickly realized that much more than another spell was necessary to heal what had been done to her and to her familiar. She had been barely herself that night, strained and exhausted. She had somewhat calmed after he had healed Waatsuskun to some extent, but she insisted that he healed the warriors first, so there was just a minor healing spell left for her familiar when it was his turn. The open fracture had closed, and his dislocated leg had come back in place.

She had told him once, later, in the middle of a dungeon, after one of her nightmares, when he had hugged her when she had awoken, how surprised she was that she could bear anyone's touch now. After Irenicus had tortured her and Waatsuskun, the embodiment of her emotions, she had not thought she could stand to be touched anymore. He knew he had a part in her healing, but her great inner strength also did. But he was not sure if she could survive her familiar being tortured once more. It had taken him too long to get here. Much too long.

"You do not know much of the Blood War," the master baatezu stated. "Why are you here?"

"We're here for my sister, fool," Sarevok said, with his ever threatening voice.

"Ah, the sorceress, then?", the devil chuckled. "Much power she has, and since we cannot Gate, we want to Wish out of this place. But we need her power to do so. Once before she came, and nearly destroyed us. We were easy prey for the tanar'ri after that, and she deserves to be stripped of her power so that we can go back to our home plane. But she will pay for her audacity first."

Anomen tensed; his shoulders rolled up, and he looked much bigger all of a sudden. "I grow tired of people trying to strip my Lady of her power."

"Ah, a knight," the baatezu said with unholy glee in its fiery eyes. "You will die of your weakness, if you refuse the power you could gain if your conscience did not stop you." Devils and demons, despite the Blood War, shared quite a few beliefs, such as the conviction that power could only be gained through foolish ambition and evil deeds, Anomen reflected with an inward sigh.

"I have been down this path before, and it did not grant me power as much as it granted death," Sarevok observed calmly.

"So great is her power that her nightmares become reality with just the slightest Gate," the devil teased. "We will have her power, and we will be stronger then the tanar'ri. And we will leave this place."

"You can try!", Anomen yelled, and he started to cast a Bolt of Glory.

"No traps!", Imoen announced, starting a Mordenkainen's sword.

"Mazzy, Smite them away! Minsc, prepare to replace her! Everyone on ranged weapons, attack the baatezu with enchanted projectiles!", Sarevok yelled as he took up his crossbow, Firetooth.

Anomen granted the novice cavaliers a few spells of protections, then he summoned an aerial servant to back up Imoen's sword. Fortunately, the devil's stun power word exploded near the sword, far enough away that none of them was stunned. Sarevok wielding the Psion's blade was immune to the stunning effect, but Anomen cast a Chaotic commands on himself.

Proteor and the novice nights were stunned by the next Power word, but Mazzy quickly manoeuvred around them to cover for them and did not stop to Smite the devils away. Anomen also started to cast Free action on everybody; he remembered all too well that baatezu could Hold person.

The battle was going relatively well, with the skilled warriors protecting the stunned paladins, Anomen boosting everybody with defensive spells and Imoen dealing a hell of a lot of damage with her mass spells. None was uninjured, however, and the demons were terrible foes.

But everything would have been much better if no one had forgotten a certain pseudo-dragon tied down to a torture bed. Suddenly the ka'rashur, his second pair of arms cut and one of his Achille's tendon severed, bleeding form a number of cuts, very close to death, decided to turn around, and limped to the torture bed.

Anomen understood right away what he was doing. No one else did, but he knew. He yelled a thunderous "No!", and ran after the ka'rashur, breaking ranks with the other warriors, and dodged between two other devils, getting lashed at with claws on both sides, but he did not care. He rushed on. He almost made it. But then the ka'rashur stopped. Anomen made another step forward, and lifted Crom Faeyr. The devil started to bring its talons down. Anomen aimed, and brought his hammer down. He heard the distinct thud of the devil's claws getting stuck into the wooden table. His hammer hit the beast on the back of its head. The devil fell forward, run over with lightning, seized in convulsions.

Anomen yanked its razor-sharp claws out of the table and out of Waatsuskun's body. Sarevok was besides him now, catching up with him with his Boots of haste. Waatsuskun was not breathing, and blood was pouring from his body at an alarming rate. Anomen started a healing spell without even taking a look behind him at the devils that were closing on his back. He could just hope that Sarevok could hold them off long enough and that Mazzy and Minsc could efficiently protect the still-stunned cavaliers.

Blood stopped to flow and wounds closed when he finished his spell. But the pseudo-dragon did not begin to breathe again. Anomen broke his bonds with Crom Faeyr and lifted the familiar in his arms. He put a hand on his back and another on his chest, both wings resting against his breastplate.

"Don't die, Waat. I love her. You hear me, Waatsuskun? I love her!", he murmured.

Suddenly the familiar gasped loudly, lashed his claws across Anomen's breastplate, and took off. He flew across the room to the other side, unnoticed over the devils' heads, and went to crash furiously into a wall, raking his tiny claws against the stone of the wall, and screaming as only a pseudo-dragon could.

With the ka'rashur dead, there was no more devil summoning and the party quickly overcame the few that were left. Proteor and the other cavaliers overcame their stunned state just in time for the final thrusts.

Then they all rushed to the pseudo-dragon. Waatsuskun was still fighting to get his claws right through the stone wall. Anomen gently tried to interpose himself, afraid the pseudo-dragon would hurt himself, tear his claws off or something, but he only got an angry hiss in response.

"Is there any secret passage?", Sarevok asked Imoen.

"I'm trying to find a switch or something, but Waat is hiding it…"

Suddenly the familiar moved a few inches to the side, and Imoen exclaimed in triumph as she pulled a switch. A section of wall disappeared into a hole of blackness. It was forming a small, square opening near the ground; it was amazing that any demon had managed to go through it. Waatsuskun fell to the ground, and started to crawl, letting out small cries.

Imoen chanted a single word: "_Luminis_" and a ball of light appeared in her hands. Anomen stepped forward into the darkness, followed by his archmagical torch wielder.

He stopped, dead in his tracks; Imoen stopped behind him, speechless. He let out a strangled sound, and let down his shield and hammer, unbuckling his cape as he rushed to Amousca. He had draped her in his cape even before Sarevok had stepped through the low door. Her make-up cantrips had been dispelled, and she was now her usual self. She was tied to the wall with steel cuffs, but they were too high for her, and she was dangling from them, her feet a good foot over the ground. Both her shoulders were dislocated, swollen and blue, and she was covered in long talon cuts. He dress had been torn to pieces, and every bit of her was visible before Anomen hid her beneath his cape. She was gagged, but with a piece of cloth that was considerably dirtier than what had been used to silence Waat.

Sarevok let out an angry growl and shattered both cuffs with his Psion's blade. The rusted metal exploded under the enchanted steel. Amousca slumped forward into Anomen's arms, her arms falling helplessly over his shoulders, out of her control. She closed her eyes, tears pushed out of her closed eyelids, as she bit at the gag, and let out a muffled groan. Anomen finished wrapping her in his cape, then he let her down on the ground, and carefully folded her arms on her chest. She groaned, and cried again. Imoen stepped forward, and cut the gag with her dagger, but Amousca was gritting her teeth so hard that the gag could not be removed right away. Anomen finally completed his healing spell. It was his last one (he had used many to finish to heal the men in the morning, then some more after the training session, and yet more as they made their way through the dungeon), and it was not nearly powerful enough. Her shoulders came back into place, but the swelling did not disappear, nor did the charring of her wrists from the rusted cuffs, or the long cuts that were already pustulous because of the demon's claws. She fainted, and the gag was removed.

Anomen looked at her with pain his heart. She needed him, and there was nothing he could do for her. He gently pushed her hair out of her face, then let his hand rest on her cheek. Waat crawled until he put his nose on her forearm, and fell unconscious too. Anomen looked at them both for a second in silence. He could not move her in this condition; it would hurt her too much if he tried to take her into his arms, both her shoulders being so stiff.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Minsc knelt besides him.

"You have done everything you can to help her. Now let Minsc and Boo help."

The ranger began to cast; a healing spell left his hands, and Amousca's condition improved visibly. His spells were limited, but this one was sufficient. Anomen lifted Amousca carefully in his arms. Imoen lifted Waat, and began to carry him in the hollow of her arm as she would have a baby. Amousca was so light that Anomen was always afraid to crush her when he lifted her so. He went through the low door, and squinted in the sudden light. Imoen gave Waat to Sarevok, and started to trace the Gate on the ground, careful with her wards and her gestures.

"Okay everyone. Gather and go in. It will take us just outside the gates of Athkatla. I'll go last and close the Gate behind us," Imoen said as she stepped besides the circle on the ground. She had just finished pouring some white powder over the edges of the circle.

Sarevok stepped through first, followed by the cavaliers, Anomen and the others. Finally Imoen appeared besides them. It was the middle of the night. It had taken them almost twenty-four hours to find her, Anomen realized with a certain shock. No matter he felt tired.

They were just besides the city gates, and one of the guards turned around suspiciously when he heard the magical detonation of the closing gate. But he recognized Anomen, and bowed respectfully, saluting "Lord Delryn". He opened the gate for them despite the hour, and let them all in.

Minsc healed them all as much as was possible. Amousca stirred, but did not regain consciousness. Anomen granted her a small spell to ease her sleep. After that, Proteor and his two novice knights left to go to the Order; they were to get new orders, and inform the Order of their success. Sarevok and his party agreed to accompany Anomen to his estate. He invited them to spend the night there, or until they were ready to depart again.

"Hey, Sarey?", Imoen asked as they were walking towards Anomen's estate.

"What, Immy?", the warrior answered.

"Do you think that troll hunting could wait? I know you just agreed to leave because Amousca was in danger, but… I'd like to know who is making copies of an horror like the Rapture of the Father."

"Alright, we'll investigate that. If the Order lets us have our way, of course," Sarevok answered.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Edit: tried to fix the devil/demon confusion I just noticed in this chapter. If you still see mistakes, please let me know :)


	7. Resting Night

_Well, it's been a little time since the last chapter, but life has been busy. I modified a bit the last chapter too, which took some time (as always, thank you Finduilas for your review and your very useful suggestions.)_

_Bookwyrme: well, hello! Thank you for your review :) As for the reason of Amousca's disguise (and Sar & co's meeting with Ano & co), it will be explained a little later. The Rapture of the Father and the Watcher's Keep are not really linked together. It's just that sort of side adventure that happens once in a while when you've been a Bhaalspawn and sowed chaos across the lands… But the matter of the Rapture of the Father will be dealt with soon, I promised, now that the matter of Watcher's Keep is out of the way…_

_Chapter VII. Rest night_

"We found the manufacturer of the scrolls you brought us, Mat," Coreen announced. "They bear the trademarks of vampire craft and we could identify the scripting used because it's a correspondent to a baelnorn that… well, it's complicated. The manufacturer's name is Gobas. He is an ancient vampire, and… Bohdi's sire."

Matteo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, looking at his sister and her two colleagues. Nogam was awaiting behind him, expressionless.

"I thank you for the information," he said carefully.

"What are you going to do now, Mat?", Coreen asked.

"Do you know anything about this Gobas? Considering he sired Bohdi and manufactures powerful spell scrolls, he has to have a great mastery of magic," Firiman added. Morul nodded wordlessly.

"I will discuss matters with Kelsey," Matteo said.

He was uneasy when they left the building of the Cowled Wizards and crossed the park to where Kelsey waited. Matteo told the sorcerer what his sister and colleagues had learned, and concluded:

"It would be best to go right away, since the longer we take, the more scrolls Gobas makes. I hesitate, though. Sir Anomen is right to say that we need more than just one spellcaster."

Matteo was thinking to himself that, besides the lives he would put in danger if he ordered a foolish attack without magical power to back him up, his father would have him routed from the Order and his mother would never forgive him if he disobeyed and went after Gobas with only Kelsey's services.

But then, the sorcerer grinned.

"I'm not married to an archmage just to arrive grandly at parties, you know."

ooooo

When they reached the Delryn estate, a young Order squire was there on Anomen's horse, holding Amousca's horse by the bridle. He dismounted hastily when he saw the knight.

"Sir!", the squire stood to attention.

"Yes, squire, what is it?", he asked.

"I am here at sir Matteo's command. When sir Proteor came and announced your arrival, I came here as sir Matteo instructed me to inform you of his decision."

"What decision?", Anomen asked, a little annoyed at all the precautions the squire took.

"Sir Matteo wanted me to inform you first that Coreen Delryn, Morul Mills and Firiman Corthala found the manufacturer of the scrolls."

"Who is it?", Anomen asked low.

"He said it was Bohdi's sire… an ancient vampire by the name of Gobas," the squire answered.

Everyone stood there thunderstruck. The Order had known about this particular nest of vampires for quite some time, but they had never been aware that Gobas was Bohdi's sire. They had never dared to attack because of the lack of information; maybe Coreen and her friends had been able to learn a thing or two.

Seeing Anomen did not appear to want to say anything, the squire went on: "Sir Matteo set out a few hours ago, planning to attack at noon."

Now Anomen thought wryly that he understood why the squire was speaking so carefully. He _was_ angry that Matteo had not waited for him and Proteor to come back, but the squire had no need to be so fearful. Anomen did not have the habit of killing messengers.

"Who is with sir Matteo?", Anomen asked.

"Sir Nogam, of course, and twenty undead hunters with him, all experienced paladins. There is also three other warrior-priests, and Kelsey Coltrane."

"No other spellcasters?", Anomen pressed, worried now. Ancient vampires could be quite skilled with magic.

"No," the squire answered, obviously unhappy to be asked this question. "If you refer to Coreen and her other Cowled associates, they were not allowed to participate in an Order's mission because of their affiliation with the Cowled Wizards."

"I see," Anomen answered quite coldly. "I thank you for your message, squire. You can go now, Reeds will take care of the horses." The stable boy stepped forward and seized both horses' bridles. How he had been awake to notice the return of his masters' horses would remain a mystery.

The squire bowed and left. Imoen opened the door for Anomen, and he stepped through with his wife in his arms. Anomen told the others to wait for him in the library, and he went up the stairs to go lay Amousca on her bed. Sarevok followed, and carefully laid down Waatsuskun on the large armchair in a corner of the room, then left silently.

Anomen removed his cape, and her ragged dress with great care. He could see that she was just sleeping now, and he did not dare to slip a night gown on her, afraid to wake her. So he tucked her in, hoping she would not wake before he came back, and went downstairs.

Sarevok, Minsc and Mazzy had unbuckled their breastplates and laid down their weapons. Imoen was slumped into one of the chairs, her spellbook open, but her head kept falling forward. They all looked exhausted.

"So, Delryn, I guess you are going to set out after them in the morning?", Sarevok asked.

"We cannot hope to catch up with them," Anomen observed.

"Unless I teleport us there. It's alright, I got it. Working on it. Gonna be fine," Imoen whispered.

"Thank you, Immy," Sarevok grinned. "We could not do it without you, you know."

"Don't get me going," she answered with a crooked smile.

Imoen studied her spells for the next morning, and Sarevok and Minsc went to the bathing chambers. They emerged soon after, dressed in guests' clothes, their own clothes being carried away by a very sleepy servant to be washed. Imoen being done with her studies, she went with Mazzy to enjoy the bath too.

Anomen went up the stairs, and silently pushed the door to the masters' room. When he opened the door, she was sitting on the bed, shakily holding Waat against her chest. She had washed in the private bathing room adjacent to their room – the water must have been icy – and donned a night robe.

"My lady," Anomen whispered as he went in. He regretted that he still had his armour on.

He removed his helmet and the Red dragon scale, but kept the leather armour he had underneath. Amousca did not answer, and looked at him as he came to the side of the bed. He knelt on the floor in front of her. He lightly put one of his hands on her knee. She squirmed, but did not move away from his grasp. She just started shaking again.

"Would you hug us, please?", she asked after a while, her voice small as a child's.

Anomen took a deep breath, sat besides her on the bed, and drew her and her familiar against his chest. He enfolded both in his arms, and gently held her head against his shoulder, reassuringly patting Waat on his back. It was always very intense when he touched her familiar. It was like a channel of his feelings into her, and right now they were reassuring and gentle. The horror and the fear of the devils' tortures slowly lost their grip over her heart. She let herself be immersed in his love and care and reassurance. She relaxed against him, then she started to cry. It was a release. Fear was letting go. He sighed and smoothed her hair back slowly, hushing her.

"S-s-sorry," she stammered. "I-I-I can't help it for now."

"Hush, my love," he whispered in her hair. "It's alright. You can cry… You have to cry."

"I-I was so scared. They kept hitting me with Fear. Over and over again, and Waat too. I… I could not fight it… not when they were hitting Waat."

"No one can. It is in what they are," Anomen answered.

"I know… But philosophical considerations didn't help much."

Anomen winced. "I guess not."

There was a silence. Anomen gradually relaxed, and resumed his hair-smoothing and back-patting.

"I-I… I was so relieved when Waat saw you arrive. I found it in me to fight then, but there was nothing I could do, bound as I was. I dislike being helpless," she concluded. After a second, she added: "I dislike needing rescuing, but I still have to admit I needed to be rescued today."

"We won't tell anyone," Anomen smiled. "I'm sure Proteor will have already spread the word of how much of a fight you were putting them through when we arrived."

She laughed then. His heart felt relieved all of a sudden. She sighed, and cuddled into him a little more.

"Thank you for running after me like you did," she added.

"It is my duty," he answered, and she smiled to be faced once more with his chivalrous manners. Even now, after all these years together, Anomen often hid too intense feelings under his chivalry, but she was not fooled. He went on: "You have to thank Imoen too, because without her, we were much further from the Watcher's Keep."

"She would have felt me being Gated," Amousca reflected. "Did she come alone, or did Sar and everyone follow?", she asked.

"They are here, probably sleeping by now."

She nodded against his chest. She was trying to make it look like she was fine, but the sniffing of her familiar gave it away, and she was still clinging to him. The thing she feared above all was to be accused of weakness. He pretended not to notice, and smiled on top of her hair.

"What… what about the Rapture of the Father?", she asked after a while.

"My lady, you should try and get some sleep now," he said.

She punched him in the stomach, hard enough. "Don't insult me, Anomen. I can handle what you have to say."

She sat up to look at him. He sighed, and he told her. He saw her face freeze when he spoke Bohdi's name. He had not forgotten that he had attacked her at the vampire's command, and she had been without a soul as guidance at that moment.

"Her sire. I hope we're running after Matteo and his battalion, because Kelsey can't possibly breach an ancient vampire's defences by himself."

"_We_?", Anomen exclaimed, his tone one of outraged disbelief.

"Come on, I know you well enough to know that you already asked Im a way to teleport us there and discussed strategies with Sar and Mazzy. Don't hope to keep me out of it."

"My lady," Anomen began carefully, "you need rest to recover from your current… indisposition…"

"I am healed, am I not?"

Anomen felt her iron will setting to the task of convincing him. It was no use trying to resist to her. But it was his duty to try. "You are, my lady, but…"

"Then it's set. My spells will be restored after a night of sleep. Are you ever going to remove this armour and go to bed?"

Anomen sighed, and went to remove his armour and wash in the very cold water of the private bathing room. When he came back in the room, she was still sitting on the bed, hugging Waat. The familiar flew to his usual chair as she moved aside to make some room for him.

He lay next to her, and she rolled into him.

"Anomen, I will not pretend this experience left nothing behind," she admitted. "They came to me in my nightmares, and I am afraid of the dreams, as I am afraid for Waat to be caught and tortured and nearly killed again. But if you just hold me close tonight… it will be better in the morning. I cannot let the fear stop me. I cannot let Kelsey, and Matteo, and Nogam, and all the others, risk their necks in my place because I am afraid."

"I understand, my lady," he said as he hugged her. She sighed and let him hold her. After a while she fell asleep.


	8. PostTraumatic Stress

_Hello again! My chapters don't come so regularly these times do they. Sorry. As usual, thank you Finduilas for your review and your useful suggestions :) I hope you like my "bad associations" about vampires in this chapter._

_Here goes!_

Chapter VIII. Post-traumatic stress

Anomen and Amousca awoke late in the following morning. Amousca was glad to see her sister, brother and old friends again; their adventures kept them far from Amn most of the time. The reunited team took a sustaining breakfast, then Imoen teleported them.

They landed in the middle of nowhere. That's what it looked like, anyway. It was a vast plain, with long, rolling hills, covered in wild grass. A forest edge could be seen to the East and the city in the distance to the West.

The battalion of undead hunters and warrior-priest stopped dead and reformed swiftly, deftly answering Matteo's command, when the gate started to open.

Kelsey opened his arms to catch his wife as she tumbled out of her gate. She let out a small cry of joy when she saw him, and threw her arms around his neck. Of course, he trusted her unbelievable spell-casting abilities, but she _had_ been on a rescue mission in the middle of Watcher's Keep, after all, and he had been worrying a little. He knew he would have felt it if anything really bad had happened to her, but it still warmed his heart to finally see her, alive and well. His sorcery made one of its unpredictable outbursts and enfolded both him and Imoen in Luck. He closed his arms and his eyes, knowing the moment would be brief, but determined to take advantage of it.

"Hope you don't mind having reinforcements?", he heard.

He opened his eyes. Amousca was standing there, looking at him with a smirk on her face and a lifted eyebrow. She wore Vecna's robes, the Amulet of power and the Staff of the magi. There was nothing stopping her today – well, nothing short of a battalion of baalors, that is.

He let go of his wife, and smiled warmly as he hugged his sister-in-law, who had been his teacher some time ago. If not for her help in disciplining his talent and her exertions at training him against scores of summoned creatures, all during a two-week crash course in the Elemental chambers of the Sphere, he could not have hoped to join Sarevok's party and survive.

"Not at all, Amousca," he answered. "In fact, I'm rather relieved to have someone here who can Spellstrike."

He let go of her and saw Delryn's discomfort; no matter how Amousca loved him, Anomen couldn't shake his insecurity, apparently. But she was his friend, and it was appropriate to hug her when he hadn't seen her in such a long time, so Kelsey didn't really care what Anomen thought about that.

She laughed, and looked at him straight in the face. "How is this Warding whip coming?"

He grunted and Imoen giggled. The archmage seized Kelsey's hand and pulled his sleeve up before he could react, showing the parallel scars on his forearm.

"That's what he got last time he tried," Imoen said. "And moreover, he struck himself with some sort of skin-removing whip. Apparently, he makes his incantation a little too literal." The archmage was hardly stifling her laughter.

"Excuse me, dear spellcasters," Matteo called a little ironically, "but might I remind you that we have a mission here today?"

"A most important one, sir Matteo," Amousca smiled.

He blushed to be called "sir" by his mother in front of all the Order's men. He turned to his father. "Shall you command us, sir?"

"I gave you this mission, my brother knight. It is yours to continue," Anomen said. "I will offer my council if necessary."

"I will gladly partake of it," Matteo nodded. Nogam nodded his approval and the party resumed its course.

As the battalion was slowly starting forward again, the ranking officers made their way towards the head of the column of men. Guervin was the first one to say something. He nodded, and smiled to Amousca.

"Lady Amousca. I had not realized we would have the pleasure of your presence… again," the paladin grinned.

"I believe you are insinuating something about me being in your company earlier?", she answered with a smile. Banter was easy with Guervin; he was a good and simple man, who she knew quite well because he was a friend of Anomen, and she saw him often enough.

"I must confess you dumbfounded me. I had not realized the freelancer spellcaster was you…"

"Not until you started to be gated away and everyone saw the look on Matteo's and Anomen's faces," Nogam said with half a smile.

"Well, you were supposed to be dumbfounded," she smiled.

"Prelate Zarath was of the opinion that I was in a position of conflict of interest in this mission," Anomen exposed as all the gazes were turning to him. "Prelate Zarath and the other senior knights wished that I accept the command of this mission, due to my experience with liches, but I refused very plainly unless a skilled spellcaster came with the party. All the other freelancers that myself, my lady or my daughter Coreen knew were busy at the moment…"

"All but Edwin, my lord," Amousca reminded with a grin.

Anomen tensed and grimaced. "Do not insinuate that the damnable red wizard is worthy of collaborating with a mission of the Order."

"Of course not," Amousca said, barely repressing her laughter at the thought of Anomen forced to tolerate the company of Edwin for a whole mission.

"…So there was only Amousca left," Anomen concluded. "However, since my son was already on the mission, the prelate thought it wiser if the men were not aware of the identity of the spellcaster, and would therefore judge objectively my behavior regarding the spellcaster."

"I see," Guervin said.

There was a short silence after that.

"How were you able to maintain the illusion of your appearance, during the training lesson of the squires, when you assumed the shape of a planetar and were half-strangled by Echigam?", Nogam asked.

"It was a cantrip and not an illusion," Amousca answered. "It never fails to amaze me how inquisitors will see through the most powerful of illusions effortlessly but will be fooled by the simplest make-up cantrip."

"Maybe we should get back to the matter at hand," Matteo advised.

The outline of the ruined tower was visible against the horizon to the west.

"Strategies," Amousca said. "If I am Chaotic commanded and Stoneskinned, I can walk in the middle of them and ram them to undead dust with Red Dragon's Breaths and Fireballs and such."

"And if you lend me the Amulet of power, I can walk in the middle of them with the Shield of Harmony and repulse them with Helm's power," Anomen added.

"I need the Amulet to cast Breaches and Spellstrikes on short notice if we run in any resistance worth our notice," Amousca pointed out.

"And a line of Undead hunters wearing Helmets of charm protection can cut them to pieces," Nogam said, looking a little offended not to have been mentioned earlier.

"Don't forget the Vampire fear," Imoen advised.

"The power of Helm does not cost time or mental energy," Sarevok said. "I don't think we can afford Amousca casting any less fast then she usually does, and she will be busy enough with a vampire mage without having the time to Fireball constantly. Nothing stops Anomen from switching from Turning undead to hand fighting or to False dawn."

"Hm, I believe the choice is Matteo's," Guervin remarked.

Everyone turned to Matteo. He tried to repress his blush.

"Spellcasters in the middle, where they are protected from all sides. We can't afford them drained of their life and spellcasting abilities. The undead hunters wearing Helmets of charm protection will take the first line, after the priests Remove fear from them. Sir Anomen and myself, the most experienced clerics of the party, will protect ourselves with spells and go in first; we should be able to kill most of the fledglings and turn the full-fledged vampires. This will clear the ground for the undead hunters to fight hand to hand."

"If I may, sir?", Amousca said, with obvious amusement at serving her son the same line she had her husband.

Everyone burst into laughter, even the squires that had overheard but were not officially "invited" to the conversation. "Yes, milady?", Matteo said with a smile.

"The undead hunters should use ranged weapons against turned vampires, so the ranks will stay closed and a more powerful or lucky vampire that had escaped the turning could not skip through the ranks and start to kill squires and spellcasters. But if an undead magic user appears, it would probably be wise to make a gap between the priest-spell-protected first line and the non-protected back lines, unless you want me or Imoen or Kelsey to suddenly start ramming Fireballs in the middle of our ranks."

"Suggestion noted, milady," Matteo approved.

"And me? You're not forgetting me, I hope?", Sarevok grunted.

"And me," Mazzy added. "Although staying behind with Gesen would be fine."

"You could both Smite with ranged weapons if we come across anything that deserves it. I leave that to your personal judgement," Matteo said.

"With the Psion's blade, I just need a Negative plane protection to take up the front line," Sarevok offered.

"All right," Matteo agreed.

"I can Wish us all protected from the undead," Amousca offered.

"This should not be necessary unless the vampires succeed in breaking our ranks," Matteo stated. "However, if this happens, we will be grateful for your short-time protection. It will give the priests the time to cast a few of their own spells."

Amousca nodded. There was a silence.

"Does anyone have anything else to say?", Matteo finally asked. "Is everything clear?"

"Yes, sir!", the squadron leaders answered, before they fell from the head to their men, to relay the orders.

ooooo

Amousca tried not to shake. Shaking would not keep her from casting, but it wouldn't be very good for the squires' morale. She half-smiled to herself as she looked at the young men around her; she was somewhat reassured that they seemed to be needing the Remove fear as badly as she did.

She gripped her staff tighter and moved forward as Imoen was telling them that there was no trap ahead. Matteo and Anomen were on the front line, not protected from the negative plane yet. Those spells had such a short duration that it was better to cast them at the last second. Sarevok was in the middle of the front line, another warrior-priest behind him, ready to protect him from the undead's draining.

Everything was silent, and the air of the crypt under the tower was cold and moist. It smelled of death and rotten flesh and decay, as all vampires lairs did. Of course, it wouldn't do for an undead to smell like roses, would it. Amousca sighed as the memories flashed back in her mind. A graveyard, just before sunrise…

ooooo

Bohdi had the nerve to actually be threatening her. Amousca was confident because Anomen was on the front line with the Shield of harmony and the Amulet of power. It was amazing how she had been relying on his strength and ability to drive the others while she was without her soul. He had been the driving force pulling them all onward; Imoen without her own soul, Keldorn and his conflicting sense of duty, Minsc and his lost Dynaheir, Mazzy and her Patrick, gone into undeath. Anomen had been the valiant soul that steered them all with his unwavering strength and determination; he could even have been said to be obstinate.

Amousca had been absolutely confident in his ability to hold back whatever Bohdi would send after them for long enough for her and Imoen to cast a few powerful spells in the middle of the battle. Although she had not counted on Bohdi being powerful enough to get through to him even with the Amulet of power.

The vampire had stood predatorily in the middle of their path, long, sharp nails ready to strike, teeth bared by pursed lips. She had said that her threats were not idle, and that Amousca would lose much if she continued on that path.

Anomen had been expecting it when she lunged towards him. He was not overly tall, but he was still a good foot taller than her, and maybe twice heavier, with his armour on. He was also very strong and quick enough. He greeted the vampire with his shield up, smashing it in her face with all his strength as she jumped, aiming for his neck. The shield made a move outward to brush the vampire aside, towards Minsc's and Keldorn's waiting blades. Amousca saw him staggering back from the weight of Bohdi crashing into him. But she also saw that the vampire was not merely human and thus was capable of inhuman moves. She hissed as the shield crashed into her face, but she gripped the arm behind the shield even as she was pushed aside and turned in the air, pivoting her whole weigth until she landed on her feet, behind his shield. Amousca had the time to analyse it all as she was preparing an Abi-Dalzim's Horrid Wilting. Imoen was almost finished with her Magic missile.

Bohdi snapped her head forward and bit Anomen on the neck even before he could move. Blood spilled so hard a few drops landed on Carsomyr, and began to boil and hiss. Amousca failed her spell, and dried painfully her hands in the process. Liliarcor and Carsomyr began their downward move. Bohdi made loud sounds of sucking, fangs still embedded in Anomen's neck, as she threw a handful of white powder in the air. Anomen was trying to move away.

Liliarcor and Carsomyr swayed idly in the air and collided with each other, where Bohdi had been just a split second earlier, and further where Anomen had stood.

"It cannot be," Amousca stated. "Not with the Amulet of power," she added.

Anomen's blood on Carsomyr was churning and quickly turning black. The blade was refusing it, sensing its evil. Amousca looked with an infinite hollowness inside of herself. The pieces were not fitting themselves in her mind. She could not comprehend, and she could not feel the loss.

Keldorn wiped his blade, seeing the distress it caused Amousca. "Come, my friend," he said, reassuringly, putting a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "There might be a way to save him yet, if we act quickly enough."

She had not said a word, but bent to gather the Amulet of power from the ground. The others had gathered armour and such, and they had started forward once more, an elemental on the front line, this time.

ooooo

They had met Drizzt and his party soon after. The Drow had wisely decided not to ask for details when Amousca asked them not to attack Anomen from the beginning, but to concentrate on Bohdi. They had borrowed Viconia's help for the occasion. Amousca could tell she was afraid to face vampires – she was no match for the undead creatures, but she of course would never admit it. Amousca told her that the back-up wouldn't be far behind and sent her in first.

Viconia opened the door, and walked forward. Drizzt, Keldorn, the spellcasters and then the others followed. Bohdi was there, looking pleased enough with herself, standing deliberately close to Anomen, murmuring something in his ear. Amousca's blood turned cold. She felt frozen inside of herself, like she was on the edge of finally remembering what having a soul was like, but unable to cross the line, and her very blood stopped at the thought.

Viconia poured the vial of holy water in the pool as Bohdi was spitting her venom about the "treacherous elves". Amousca didn't care to listen. She could just stare at Anomen, and see him stare back at her blankly, his eyes hollow and bloody, his face pale and his bearing weak – not proud and arrogant as he usually was. She let Imoen converse with the vampire.

Bohdi launched herself on Viconia, nearest target. Drizzt and Keldorn started to fight hand-to-hand with Grimwarders that came nearer and Viconia efficiently turned the fledgling undead. Amousca tried to speak with emotion, even if it was hard without a soul, and asked Anomen to stay away. And she started her spell.

She almost failed it again when Anomen continued to come towards her, but she closed her eyes, and held on to her spell. She opened her eyes when she finished it. She threw both hands forward as the incantation finished. Anomen had come so close during her casting that her hands collided with his chest. His death-cold hand seized both her wrists, and twisted them together painfully. She let out a small cry of pain as he brutally pulled her arms, and lowered his head. She felt his cold breath on the skin of her neck. She shut her eyes and grit her teeth and readied herself for the drain, but then her forgotten spell finally exploded and she was free. Anomen was dead at her feet, skin ugly and peeled off his cheeks and knuckles.

A silence filled her ears. She could no longer hear the sounds of battle, Keldorn's worrying grunts of pain or Viconia's panting as she tried a healing spell. She could no longer see the red all over the chamber. She could no longer smell the blood from the pools.

She just stared at a body at her feet, one she had killed, and how ugly death was. She tried to reason herself, knowing the Anomen she knew would not have wanted to live if it was to be an unlife. She removed her cape, and gently put it over his body. She knelt on the floor next to him, and gently took his hand into hers, trying not to break his dry fingers. It was terrible and ugly.

After a while she had noticed the silence. She had lifted her head. Drizzt was standing a little to the side, panting heavily. Viconia and Keldorn were both bleeding profusely, pallid and barely able to stand. Apparently, the undead protection had finished before the battle. Minsc and Mazzy were in need of healing. Imoen was looking exhausted, but calm. She looked like she had her soul back. Too bad it had cost her sister her heart.


	9. Vampire Hunting

_So! Finally, the conclusion to this story… yep, that's the last chapter. I wouldn't mind some final comments :)_

Chapter IX. Vampire hunting

Of course, everything was properly fixed in the following days, but the unpleasant memories hunted her still. And the fact that she was to meet Bohdi's sire wasn't helping. The former elf had been a very powerful vampire. So, her sire had to be even more powerful. And he was a skilled magic user, capable of scribing a paramount horror like the Rapture of the Father.

Anomen was on the front line again, and he wasn't even wearing the Amulet of power this time. Probably sensing her worry by some sixth sense gifted by his love and priest's wisdom, he half turned around as Imoen was scanning for traps. He gave her a serious look. Of course he would be careful, what was she thinking. She almost smiled.

Matteo was besides him. He looked at least as much determined, but he was smaller, and younger. And he had never fought an ancient vampire before. He was one of the Order's senior knights, but he had not been a lonely adventurer and had always been on campaigns and strategies, not so often with hand-to-hand fighting. Amousca worried for him too. Of course it was the mother's role in all the universes to worry. He was a powerful fighter _and_ cleric, and he was capable of protecting himself before anything could hurt him seriously.

And anyway she could just Red dragon's breathe the whole area if necessary.

She took a deep breath, and set her shoulders. Kelsey and Imoen went to stand on each side of her as the party reached a door. An inquisitor detecting evil told them there were twenty-seven fledgling vampires, twelve full-fledged vampires, and three ancient vampires behind that door.

_What a flock_, Amousca thought. _Anomen will kill the twenty seven in one minute, then the full-fledged in the second minute as they will rush in after their underlings, and the ancient fighters will come straight for us. Sar and undead hunters can take care of those._

"Inquisitor, True sight please," she ordered, voice low.

The inquisitor to her right obeyed immediately.

"Kelsey, keep breaching, I'll keep Spellstriking. Imoen, a few summons and mass spells if you have a chance."

The two mages quietly nodded.

Anomen prepared himself, and just as he was ready to send out the first wave of Helm's power, Matteo bashed the door open with his powerful shoulder. Two startled vampires that were guarding the door turned to them, only to be hit by Helm's power. Those were full vampires and hissed, looking as though they would hold their ground facing the tremendous holy power unleashed by Anomen, but they both fell to dust.

Anomen looked on across the dust. There was a moment of indecision amongst the vampires, and he quickly surveyed their positions. A third of them feeding, a third writing or reading in the far corner, and another third just standing guard near the door.

Instantly, as the security of their crypt was breached, a first set of contingencies went up. Anomen still held his ground on the doorstep, calling forth the power of Helm, while he observed what was happening. No one was under Spell immunity from divination, hopefully, and their predictable Invisibility and Mirror images disappeared with the Inquisitor's power.

Suddenly, there was movement around the feeding area, lesser vampires scattering away hastily, apparently fearing being in the way of their master in such an occasion.

"Why are you here, insects?", Gobas asked, staying his vampires with an imperative move of the hand. He slowly stood, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. There was a young woman, blond and very beautiful, on the floor in front of him. She was lying on her back, empty eyes staring up at the stone ceiling of the tomb, her hair still carefully braided in a pun. She had been bitten in many places, and appeared to be dead; there was no way to tell yet if she would rise again. They had interrupted him in his feeding, apparently.

Gobas was tall, for a vampire, and lean. He was only dressed to the waist, with red and black silk in a sort of flowing monk robe, and the spread of death-white skin that was visible was marked by numerous, thin scars. Several teeth marks were also imprinted on his body, probably from the undeath-giving. His pupils were unnaturally wide and of an infinite black. His nails and lips were painted in black, and his long, black hair was free on his shoulders. His posture was one of confidence and power. He was old and strong, and the air around him exuded of it.

"You have made traffic of one too many spell, vampire," Matteo spat.

"I rejoice that there is another way for me to take vengeance for what has been done by Irenicus and Bohdi," Anomen added. "I am here because we have found a copy of the Rapture of the Father scribed by you. The replication of the foul spell that ripped my lady of her soul will not go unpunished. In the name of all that is holy we will stop you."

Gobas did not appear troubled in the least by the mention of either Bohdi or the Rapture of the Father. "Oh, really? Bohdi was but a weakling. She didn't even have the wisdom to realize that she was not free of me. She was seducing at first, with her elven body and ambitious mind, but in the end she turned bitter, and didn't even taste good. I find it rather satisfying that you eliminated her, if not for the loss of lucrative exchange with her brother. That you killed her is no guarantee that you will kill me. But you are welcome to try, and I will appreciate the sport."

He lowered his hand and the vampires rushed forward, and suddenly it was chaos. The first wave was upon them immediately, and Anomen's and Matteo's ears filled utterly with the disgusting, zombie-like sounds the young vampires did as they attacked them with drawn teeth and nails. They staggered as the bodies crashed into their shields one after the other, all muscles straining to keep their footing on the unevenly-paved ground, and Anomen was suddenly grateful that he wore the Girdle of Fire Giant Strength.

Anomen could ear indistinctly a frenetic exchange of spells from behind him and before him, further into the vampires' chamber. He smiled grimly as wave after wave of magic passed over his head, knowing Amousca was there, making sure he was safe from magic, as much as he was here making sure she was safe from harm.

It was long minutes of chaos, staggering against the weight of the vampires trying to bash them back from the door, calling upon Helm's power and feeling the undeath dispel before it. At some moment a power word exploded right on Anomen's chest, but it was not powerful enough to affect him. Quickly after that, no more vampires came crashing against their shields; they were either vanquished, turned, or would stay too far to be affected.

"First line, forward!", Matteo ordered, as the last wave of vampires turned to dust around them, leaving in the chamber only three vampires cowering in the far corner, and the magic users that had stayed far from the fray.

Anomen and Matteo quickly walked forward, and Gobas's two bodyguards sprang forward to defend their master. Sarevok quickly followed through the door, and so did the knights, lined with discipline and spanning on the other side in a well-practiced move, drawing weapons and rushing on the closest opponent.

Metal clanked and weapons collided as the two bodyguards drew swords of their own; they were ancient, supernaturally strong and quick, and had honed their fighting skills over decades of unlife. Each bodyguard danced about his own score of adversaries, fending and parrying more than one adversary at a time, in an apparently effortless display of skill and speed. Only Sarevok could near their skill while under his own particular power of Whirlwind, and Mazzy who kept sticking arrows in their gut and chest, in-between the moving assailants and the vampires' own mind-shattering moves.

Anomen was desperately trying to get to the magic users – someone had to, because even Amousca, Kelsey and Imoen together could not keep them from casting forever – but one of the very efficient and deadly bodyguards knew exactly that, and was manoeuvring his body to interpose. Anomen hit at him repeatedly with an urgent rage, each brutal hit of Crom Faeyr making the undead's body clench under the physical pain and the burning of the lightning arching through his body. The fighter quickly changed tactics and concentrated all his attention on Anomen, leaving more opportunities to the others to hit at him, and Anomen pushed on in a frenzy.

"Hand to hand on the ancient!", he suddenly heard Amousca yell. "What the hell are you waiting for it's a Wilting he's trying!"

_I'm trying, my love!_, he swore inwardly. _I swear, by Helm, I'm trying!_

There was not much time before Anomen recognized a ball of dust flying over the battle. He prepared himself, and was hit by the Abi-Dalzim's Horrid Wilting. He gasped painfully, as all his brother knights had, and the vampire pounced upon him suddenly, stabbing three quick times at the same spot on his shoulder, seriously indenting the Red dragon's scale, and no doubt breaking his collarbone of his shield's arm. But he ignored the pain, and he could still hold his shield. Some of the novices had fallen, not able to sustain such a spell.

But Anomen quickly fell back into a defensive fighting position, as the vampire pushed on with his momentary advantage, but the move was just enough, and Nogam suddenly sneaked between the two bodyguards, followed by another two of his squadron, running forward, bringing his sword up as he ran. He saw the legendary shimmering figurehead of a dragon appear above his head, and vampires lift their eyes to look at it and cringe expectantly. Suddenly a ball of searing fire enveloped him, and the flames licked harmlessly at his armour and clothes, pushed out from the point of impact in a blinding explosion of heat, light and flames.

Both bodyguards shook heavily as their flesh burned. They would not resist for long. Gobas, however, was still protected from fire and felt nothing of this. Kelsey breached him yet again. Amousca tried Magic missiles to see if he still had resistance to magic up his sleeve. The glowing globes of purple energy buried themselves through its undead flesh. One of the undead hunters hit the vampire on the shoulder, breaking the shoulder blade. Gobas took a step backwards, gathering himself, but before he could react another series of Magic missiles hit him, and Nogam's blade beheaded him.

Nogam let out a furious cry in the name of Torm and ran back to assist Anomen, Sarevok, Matteo and the others that were battling the remaining bodyguards. Kelsey and Imoen had fried to ultimate death all of the turned vampires. The remaining ancient vampires fell under the combined strikes and changed to gaseous forms, which floated hastily towards a sarcophagus, one of the many lined against the far wall.

Everyone stopped to take a suspicious look around.

"There is nothing else alive," Amousca stated. "I can see with my True sight."

"Healing," Matteo ordered.

"Lemme help," Imoen said, and she started an incantation. Some paladins, curious, turned to the mage, wondering what she could be casting that would help them.

It was an incredibly powerful spell; everyone was made aware of that quickly enough, when the air between her hands started to churn and blur as in the summer's heat. Everyone's ears started to ring faintly with distinct glorious chants and there was a sudden light opening on Imoen. She finished her incantation and opened her hands skyward.

A blinding ray of white light flashed upon her and a planetar descended upon it.

"Your orders, my lady? This place reeks of an abomination I will gladly partake in the destruction of," the planetar said.

"The abomination we can take care of, ourselves. Will you please raise the brave men that fell here today, ensure that their heart is still pure, and restore those that you can?", Imoen asked.

"Very well, my lady."

The planetar floated first to the woman that had been the last victim of Gobas, and simply made a cleaning ritual for her, as nothing else could be done. Then, she flew to one of the fallen. She started to chant, and after a while her hands glowed white. She laid it on the knight's chest and the young man took a deep breath, opening his eyes. His stare was not focused yet, and he looked into the brilliant eyes of the planetar, a dreamy smile making its way across his lips.

"…must have been worthy… paradise…", he murmured, before closing his eyes again.

The planetar rose the other fallen, and then healed the most badly injured, before finally restoring Sarevok and one of the warrior-priests, protective spell had not lasted long enough. Anomen, Matteo and the other warrior-priests had been walking around and healing the men as the planetar distributed her magic around. Finally, everyone was back on their feet.

"Did anyone think of bringing stakes?", Amousca asked.

"Here, in the bag of holding," Matteo said, putting said bag on the floor and starting to rummage through its contents.

"I hope you have _fifteen_ of them?", Kelsey asked.

"I didn't count, but I took a whole bundle," Matteo answered. He finally pulled the aforementioned bundle of stakes from the bag. He asked one of the nearby knights to cut the binds with his sword, then took two stakes. He ceremoniously walked to his mother. He stopped in front of her. "Your honour, milady." He gave her one of the stakes.

She took it with a shaking breath. She walked forward to the sarcophagus that stood in the middle. It was much bigger than the others, more ornate, with figures made of green and red precious stones, on a thin sheet of gold. There were two scorpions on the side, one green and the other red, and there was an image of the Weave on the lid of the coffin.

Amousca looked at it. She felt cold sweat bathing her as she thought of pushing the lid aside. Gatherings of childhood fears were welling inside of her, nearly paralyzing her. Waat was hiding to the bottommost of her pack. She willed her hand to move, and put it on the side of the heavy rocky lid. She put her other hand beside her first and pushed, slowly.

The lid slid aside, in a deep and muffled sound of stone brushing against stone, and the dim light of the room started to light the inside of the coffin. She started to see the shoulder of the vampire, more and more of the shoulder, until his ear appeared. She almost stopped, but swallowed hard and pushed further. One eye of the vampire slid out of the shadow of the sarcophagus lid. It was dark and black and deep as the demons' eyes. She closed her eyes against the images that were taking shape in her mind, images of the demons as they tortured her or Waat, or of the fear they had driven inside of her head with their powerful minds. She nearly dropped the stake, but stopped herself, holding her mind on Anomen's image when he had come to take her out of Watcher's Keep. The feeling of reassurance going through Waat to her later that night. His eyes on her back and his strong love just behind her.

She stared through the eyes of the vampire as she pushed the lid aside sufficiently to expose his entire face and enough of his chest. She wondered why she was more afraid of him in his death than in his life. Somehow he was easier to fight with magic during a battle then with courage in his immobility, at her mercy. She took a deep breath, determination setting itself as hard as rock in her heart. Gobas, Bohdi's sire… manufacturer of Raptures of the Father.

Her face contorted and anger burned inside of her, and she lifted the stake. She hammered it down with all her strength on his chest, concentrating all her hatred on his heart. Blood spilled on her hand when the stake went through the flesh. The vampire merely squirmed; she was not strong enough to stake it in one attempt. Matteo was besides her and handed her his weapon. It was the Runehammer and it began to glow wickedly as she took it and lifted it over the undead's body. She brought the hammer down and hit the head of the stake with it. The stake went through Gobas' chest and blood spilled again. Suddenly the body started to writhe, and a death spirit escaped it. What had been the vampire dissolved into dust and carrion at the bottom of the coffin.

She took a step back, staggering, and found the comforting hand of Anomen on her elbow.

"It is dead," she finally said. "So is the Rapture of the Father."

"There are a few copies of it here," Imoen said, at a table in a nearby chamber. There were parchments and quills all over. "However, from the correspondences, I think the first and only one he sold was to that lich in the tower."

"Good," Amousca sighed.

"Aunt Immy?", Matteo suddenly said, his stray from protocol noticed.

"Yes, Matteo?", she answered, letting down the scrolls.

"The Rapture of the Father affected you too… You have the right to put an end to another."

She smiled roguishly, and came forward, taking the offered stake. She walked to the sarcophagus of one of the bodyguards. She pushed the lid without hesitation. "Oh, look at you, cutie, Sleeping beauty. Too bad you grow teeth when you wake up. Just shouldn't've messed with Imoen T. Bhaalspawn."

She brought the stake down. Runehammer was once more used to drive the stake though the vampire's chest. After that, Nogam received the honour to put an end to the second vampiric bodyguard, for giving the killing strike. The other vampires were dispatched by young knights or squires, undead hunters for the most part.

"It is done," the planetar said in the end. "I thank you for this opportunity to witness another victory for the light."

"We shall never surrender the fight," Anomen declared.

"Nope. Not a chance," Imoen concurred.

"Well, not until my old bones force it," Sarevok grinned.

The group of adventurers started to cheer and laugh as they left the catacomb, Kelsey burning everything left to dust with Fireballs.

Amousca did not feel like rejoicing with the others. Her children were twenty-one years old. Sarevok _was_ getting old, he was almost fifty. Imoen was too old now to have children, but she was a powerful magic user and would live older than most, as would Kelsey. But the fighters would not, Amousca thought. Sarevok would die young, and she knew that his bones had already started to protest in the mornings from multiple fractures over his long life of fights. She turned to look at Anomen then. He was still strong and full of life, but wisdom was making him calmer and more thoughtful; there were some crow's feet appearing in the corner of his eyes, and some wrinkles on his cheeks when he smiled. A little of grey was starting to creep in his beard, when he wore one, and at his temples. It made him look even wiser.

But he was aging, and she was not. For the first time this day she stopped herself to think about what was happening. She realized that Anomen must have seen it coming before her, and had not said anything, probably aware that it would disturb her. She looked at him as he walked, a little in front of her. The light was getting stronger as they were nearing the door to the crypt. She thought of all those years in his company, of her collection of memories of joy and happiness and fulfillment and love. Somehow, even in the hard moments, when he had been fleeing or away on campaigns, she had always figured their happiness would continue on forever. That they would live happily ever after, just like in fairy tales.

Life was not a fairy tale; her father had been murdered by her half-brother, two of her best friends killed by an ex-elven madman, her soul ripped from her, her love turned a vampire and back, she had gone to hell and back several times, and she had finally fought for an evil god's throne with his own marshal. But her half-brother had changed to become a better man, her soul was restored, as was her love, she had been happily married for twenty-three years, and she had three wonderful children.

Anomen turned, then, just before he stepped out in the light. He smiled warmly as he laid his eyes on his wife. She was so beautiful, even the gloomy shadow of a vampires' nest could not take away her radiance. He saw her sad eyes turn bright suddenly; there were a few tears in them, but she made a smile as she took his offered hand.

Amousca's heart warmed when Anomen turned to look at her and take her in his loving gaze. Well, what did it matter for how long it lasted? She started to understand what it was like to be a human. Everything was more valuable because there was an end to it. So, she would just have to seize the day, wouldn't she? And what would keep that from lasting forever?

She thought back of Gorion's teachings, as she stepped into the warm light of the morning sun, her arm linked with her beloved husband's: _Carpe diem_.

_The End._


End file.
